


Versus Tempus

by Miss_Phebe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Amnesia, Angst, M/M, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Phebe/pseuds/Miss_Phebe
Summary: Hermione had warned him: awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time.It is a pity that Harry no longer remembers this conversation, just as he doesn't remember what his real name is, because an ancient coven is persecuting him, how he managed to attract the attention of the most powerful dark wizard of all of times and even who cursed him with that lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. He is determined to unravel the mysteries that lie in his past, however, and no one, not even the warlock who began his misadventures, will be able to stop him.However, despite all this, somehow, Harry, being Harry, will also find time to deal with the intrigues of the Knights of Walpurgis."So what's the plan?" inquired Mulciber, nervously "Beacuse there is a plan, right?"."Oh, as for that, you can rest assured: there are two of them" Rosier reassured him softly. "Which one do you want to hear? Magbob's plan about getting us killed or Tom's plan about getting a life sentence in Azkaban?".
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	1. The Book of Admittance

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Italian available
> 
> https://efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=3964965&i=1

**Chapter I**

**The Book of Admittance**

Thirteen-year-old Alphard Black (tall, thin and, in the moment, with thick silver hair and purple eyes) had spent the past three days in that little room of the St Mungo's watching over the unconscious stranger, hoping to be there for his awakening. The patience of Alphard was destined to be rewarded, in fact, he was reviewing the meaning of the Uruz rune when the stranger had woken up screaming. Alphard dropped the _Spellman's Syllabary_ to the ground and ran to his side. The boy was still lying in bed with his eyes closed but he was sweaty, squirming, screaming and continuing to rub his forehead where there was the Sowilo-shaped scar that had so intrigued Alphard. You didn't have to be a Healer to guess that it must be a curse scar and the cause of his current suffering, but he didn't know how to help him. Just as Alphard was about to ring the golden bell that would call a Healer, the stranger began to calm down, stopped fidgeting and, although panting, opened his eyes.

He had beautiful eyes, almond-shaped, bright green, and the way he kept blinking, completely disoriented, softened Alphard.

"Your glasses are here". He reassured him by grabbing them from the bedside table and handing them to him.

The stranger immediately put them on, but didn’t lose his lost air. "I'm Alphard, Alphard Black, it was I who found you" he explained "Are you better now? Has the scar stopped hurting you?".

The Stranger nodded and then, after looking around, in a thin voice, asked: "Where am I?". They were in a small square room with white walls and furniture. It didn't even have a window and the furniture consisted solely of the four-poster bed, the chair where Alphard was reading and a bedside table that contained the Hogwarts uniform that the Stranger wore when Alphard had found him.

"We’re at St Mungo’s" Alphard explained to him, the information didn’t seem to clarify to him the situation and Alphard began to worry: who in Great Britain didn’t know the St Mungo’s? Alphard hadn't forgotten that the stranger was wandless: could he really be a Muggle as Ignatius Tuft had suggested? And if he was, Alphard, by continuing to talk to him, risked breaking the International Statute of Secrecy?

Alphard hesitated: he should have called a Healer to warn that the Stranger had woken up and he would it. After.

"What’s your name?" He asked to him with an encouraging smile. There weren't many people who could arouse his interest, but that boy had succeeded and Alphard wanted him to answer a few questions, after all he had gone to see him every day, just in the hope that he would wake up while he was there. Unfortunately, the Stranger didn'tseem to want to cooperate. In fact, after hisquestion, he stiffened and began to look around, scared.

"You aren’t in danger" he tried to calm him down. "Soon the Healers will be arriving to check how you are".

At those words, the boy seemed to cheer up a little: "So are we in some kind of hospital?" he asked.

"We’re at St Mungo’s" repeated Alphard. "Do you frequent Hogwarts?" he then asked. After all, when Alphard had found him, the Stranger was wearing black work robe. Alphard didn't remember ever seeing him before, but he couldn't be sure. At a guess, he seemed to be more or less the age of Alphard's little brother, so he could have been a freshman and if he had been sorted to another house, Alphard might not notice him.

The Stranger, who was beginning to look like Alphard's house-elf when she feared she had angered his mothe, bit his lower lip and didn't answer.

The young Black sighed deeply, continuing like this would have achieved nothing. 'Be friendly', he told himself. He smiled at him in the most reassuring way he was capable of and in response his hair turned a warm mahogany color and his eyes darkened. The Stranger stared at him in surprise, but said nothing. "I'm a Metamorphmagus and I study atHogwarts, third year, Slytherin". Judging by his expression, almost certainly the boy had recognized the name of Alphard's house, but the Stranger didn't comment.

"What is a Metamorphmagus?" he asked instead.

"I'm able to change my appearance very easily". And he showed it to him: in a flash his hair turned orange, his eyes yellow, his nose widened and he grew several centimeters. The Stranger handled a small smile and Alphard reciprocated.

"As I said, it was I who found you". He continued as he returned to his usual look with silver hair and purple eyes. "You passed out in the Potters’ library, I was there for their Yule ball".

"Were you in a library for a ball?" repeated the boy.

Alphard gave him another smile. "The balls aren’t my cup of tea".

The stranger's eyes sparkled with amusement: every minute that passed he resemblesed less to a mistreated house elf and more to the child he should have been.

"And the books, yes?".

"The Potters have an interesting library which, according to my aunt Dorea, includes The Almagest".

"Claudius Ptolemy’s grimoire?" said the Stranger.

"Exact" Alphard cheered: he had never spoken to a Muggle, but he doubted they knew the Hogwarts’ Houses and the Greek theorists.

"I sneaked out of the ballroom, slipped into the library and I was looking for the grimoire when you appeared out of nowhere, lying on the floor. You were unconscious, so they took you to St Mungo’s: it all happened three days ago". He was silent, waiting for the Stranger to say something –it was time for him to give some explanation, right?-, however it soon became clear that he had no intention of doing so. Alphard hesitated for just some seconds. He was convinced that to find information, the direct ways were the least effective, but in reality he didn’t have much choice, he didn’t know him and didn’thave time to think about some strategy: at some point a Healer would come for the check-up and it was possible that after finding out who the Stranger was, they would release him without Alphard would know how to reach him. "So, how did you do it?".

"How did I do what?".

"How you did to appear in the middle of the Potters’ library. I was there, you didn't Apparate and you didn't even use a Portkey, on the other hand it wouldn't have been possible: that house is well protected".

"I don’t know how I did". The desolation and helplessness that his eyes expressed were such that Alphard didn’t doubt even for a moment the sincerity of those words.

"But do you know what happened to you? Why were you passed out?".

The Stranger shook his head.

"Well, what's your last memory?".

It was when that little boy, who must have been more or less the age of his little brother, summed up that frightened house-elf expression, that Alphard realized what situation he was in.

"I don’t know it" he muttered.

"What’s your name?" insisted Alphard, hoping, for the Stranger's sake, that he had drawn the wrong conclusion.

"I don’t know it" he repeated, making himself small.

Instinctively, Alphard put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. Healers, through potions and Legilimency, are also able to recover lost memories". He avoided adding that the ability to retrieve memories depended on the cause of the memory loss: non-magical causes weren’t a problem, but Alphard suspected that any incident had caused to the appearance of an amnesic boy in one of the best protected house’s Great Britain, must had been _very_ magical.

The little boy was about to ansie him when the door to the room was opened and a tall man who wore long lime-green robes entered. He beamed smile to them. "Our sleeping beauty woke up, then". He approached the bed almost hopping and pointed his wand towards the boy's chest, who began to emit a faint light. Alphard had no idea what it meant, but the exam seemed to have satisfied the Healer who nodded and continued to smile.

"You had a magical breakdown" explained the Healer. "You must have done something very challenging. Unfortunately, the only thing to do in these casesis to let the subject rest and hope that the effort he sustained wasn't exceeded his strength".

Alphard wondered if the stranger would die in that case.

"You know, for the past three days, every one talked only about you" continued the Healer in an annoyingly cheerful tone. "Can I ask your name? And what were you doing in the Potters' house?". These words were greeted by absolute silence. Alphard, who still had a hand on the Stranger's shoulder, squeezed it gently: "Nothing will happen to you" he whispered in Stranger's ear, "He wants to know what happened just to figure out how to help you".

In fact, Alphard wasn't sure. Willingly or unwillingly, what the Stranger had done, it called magical housebreaking, and the Potters were influential enough to make sure he didn't get away with it. However, the boy seemed to believehim and, in a hesitant voice, replied to the Healer: "I don't know, I ... I don't remember anything. I mean nothing at all, I don't know who I am".

There was amazement and pity in the man's eyes, who never the less continued to smile and maintain a cheerfultone of voice. "Well, nothing to worry about. The best Healers in the country all work here: they will find a way to recovery our memories in a jiffy".

Alphard was much less optimistic.

"Personally, I hope it was all caused by a faulty Portkey: I bet ten Galleons on this" said the Healer. If that revelation was meant to make the two boys laugh, it failed. Then the Healer turned his gaze towards young Black. "And who are you?" he asked.

That was a good question, wasn't it? Alphard couldn’t pretend to be a parentor friend of an amnesic boy.

"I'm the person who found him" said Alphard. His statement didn't explain what he was doing there, three days after his discovery, in a reserved room, outside visiting hours.

The Healer's gaze was drawn to the _Spellman's Syllabary_ still on the ground, Alphard picked it up and put it in the bag.

"A private room in a hospital is a strange place to study" observed the man.

"I wasn’t studying" lied Alphard. "I had only come for a short visit. Who are you, anyway? Where is Healer Longbottom?".

"Today is his day off" answared the man. "I’m Andrew Taylor and what’s your name?".

"Alphard Black".

The Healer's face contracted for a moment in a distrustful expression. Alphard didn’t ask why.

"Well, I'm afraid I need to give your friend some more thorough examination" he said, smiling back at him. "You can come back tomorrow. Maybe he will has already recovered his memory" he concluded cheerfully.

Alphard, who still had a hand on the stranger's back, didn't want to leave and the Stranger, judging by his pleading gaze, didn't want him to leave. It was understandable: Alphard could only vaguely imagine how lost and vulnerable he felt, however, they had no choice.

"I’ll be back tomorrow" he promised him.

The little boy nodded. Alphard, a little embarrassed, stroked his hair affectionately.

"See you" the Stranger answered and Alphard exited the room, leaving behind an annoyingly cheerful Healer and a pale kid who wore blue pajama too big for him.

He hit the entire corridor and then went down the stairs on his right until he reached the crowded reception aerea. He was heading towards the exit when an attractive witch, who wore a stylish purple robes, entered. She had thick black hair gathered under a pretty hat and dark gray eyes: it was his aunt Dorea.

"What are you doing here?" he asked to her.

"Shouldn't I be me ask it to you, kiddo?" she replied in a docking tone. "I was looking for you. Your mother sent me an owl: she fears that I have kidnapped you".

Alphard frowned, puzzled.

"You were supposed to be home three hours ago: you missed dinner" pointed out his aunt.

Alphard glanced quickly at his pocket watch: it was true, he had lost track of time.

"The curios part is" continued Dorea "that Irma seems convinced that you've spent the last three days with me: she wrote that you leave the house early in the morning, sometimes before breakfast, and that you come back just in time for dinner".

Alphard didn't answer, it wasn't necessary: at that moment it was evident what he had done in the last three days.

"So, can I know why all this?".

"I was curious".

"Me too, but as I explained to you, Charlus would have immediately reported to us any news".

Charlus, the former Head Boy Potter, Aunt Dorea's fiancé, was studying to become a Healer. In fact, Alphard had managed to visit the Stranger, despite beingin a reserved room thanks to Charlus, and to the condescension of the Healer Preston Longbottom.

"There is something new: he awakened and I have knew it before you and Charlus».

Aunt Dorea was frowning.

"So do you think it was worth it? Was it worth it to be locked in here for three days to discover that he awakened a few hours earlier than when you would have found out anyway?".

Alphard thought back to how the Stranger looked him: yes, it was been worth it, but he didn't tell it to his aunt.

"Well," she continued "did he say something to you? How did he get into the Potters’ House?".

"He doesn't know, he's lost his memory".

His aunt giggled: "Convenient".

"Do you think that he lied?". It was a possibility, of course, although to Alphard, the Stranger had seemed sincere.

The witch shrugged. "If he lied, the Healers will find out right away".

"But do you think he needs to lie? The Potters could decide to report him?".

"Oh, no, I rule it out. Mr. Potter, Euphemia and Flea are not that kind of people - Merlin, he's a child! - Sure, they will have questions for him, they will all have them".

Alphard nodded thoughtfully. Aunt Dorea put a hand on his shoulder and gently pusher him towards the exit. When they were on the road, she stretched out her arm with her wand and, with a deafening BANG, a purple triple-decker bus materialized. The conductor - short, plump, in a purple uniform - got out and said the usual words of welcome to them. AuntDoreaexplained to himwheretheyweregoing, handedhim a fewcoins and then, followed by hisnephew, headed for one of the beds at the end of the bus.

"What do you think about it?" asked Alphard as the bus left, jolting. They both clung tightly to bed to keep from falling. "How do you think he lost his memory?".

Dorea took off her hat from her head. "You asked the least interesting question. Assuming he's not faking it, the amnesia could have been caused by just about anything: potions, charms, curses or, who knows, maybe he just suffered a big shock. How did he seem? I mean, I realized he doesn't remember anything, but was he in hisself?".

Alphard thought about it. Obviously, since he didn't know him before the accident, it was a bit difficult to determine if the Stranger had behaved differently than usual.

"He seemed intimidated and very disoriented, but I don't think he lost the self-awareness" he said.

Aunt Dorea nodded: "Thing which usually happen with curses".

"So maybe he's just in shock?" Alphard deduced.

"Either he's been poisoned or he's charmed" repeated his aunt. "But what does it matter? Healers need to under stand it to cure him but I'm more interested in under standing who he is and where he comes from because he may have accidentally lost his memory, but he cannot have accidentally entered Iolanthe’s Nest".

Alphard nodded. His aunt had repentely said that the Potters' house one of the safest places in Britain.

"How is it protect?".

"Well, it's Unplottable, there are Muggle-repelling Charms, no one can Apparate, nor use a porte without the permission of a family member and aboveall the whole house is surrounded by a circle of Hestia that keeps any intruder away for a radius of one hundred meters".

"When they say paranoia…"

Dorea gave her nephew a sharp look: "Can you blame them?".

No, Alphard couldn't. Five years earlier, when Euphemia Potter was expeting a child, she had been kidnapped by a dark wizard, Fauntleroy Nott. The Aurors had found her after a week, locked up in a cave in Cornwall. Apparently, Nott was seeking revenge because of a Muggle protection law enacted by Euphemia's father-in-law, Henry Potter. Mrs. Potter didn't remember what had happened during her captivity, but a curse had made her lose her child. This story was still a much discussed gossip in the good parlors of the British wizarding community.

"So, he cannot have entered Iolanthe's Nest by chance" continued Alphard, taking up his aunt's reasoning. "Thus, how did he do it?".

"Obviously, Flea and Euphemia fear he was sent by someone".

"What have could a wandless kid do in a house teeming with adult wizards and witches?".

Aunt Dorea's lips curled into a grimace. "I don't have the answers to your questions, Al, but it's only natural that the Potters are worried: Fauntleroy Nott is still free and rumor has it that now he is one of Grindelwald's men. That unarmed kid could have been part of a bigger plan, in fact he could still be part of a plan".

For some reason, Alphard's stomach sank. "You said the Potters wouldn't denounce him".

"And they won’t" confirmed Aunt Dorea. "Flea and Euphemia are convinced that all children are inherently innocent. They want to find out who is behind that little boy, who is trying to hit them this time, but they don't want him to be tried".

Alphard, reassured, leaned on the head of the bed. "The Potters are pretty unlucky, aren't they?".

"Henry Potter has made many enemies over the course of his political career and his sons tend to suffer the consequences" explained Dorea.

Alphard grinned: "Are you sure you want to join their family, Aunt?".

"I’m all for it" replied Dorea with a firm tone.

And Alphard knew it wasn't just because she loved Charlus, Dorea was eager to get rid of their family name. He turned his head to the window, slightly uncomfortable. Between his favorite aunt and his grandfather there was a climate of belligerence that risked leading to denial. Indeed that would have already led to denial if the Grandmother, so fond of her 'sentimental and rebellious' great-granddaughter, had not intervened.

At that moment the bus stopped. Alphard and Dorea said goodbye to the conductor and the driver and went down onto a patch of grass in the center of a small square; they crossed the street and came to the side walk right in front of the stone steps that led to the black door without keylock but with a silver door-knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent.

"I guess you'll go back to St Mungo’s tomorrow" said Aunt Dorea.

Alphard didn't waste time and energy to denying it.

"Charlus and I will go with you".

"To be able to tell everything to the Potters?".

"Exatly" she beamed "and then I want to meet the mystery boy" she put a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. "See you tomorrow at two in the reception".

Dorea turned on it self and Disapparated. Alphard took a deep breath and pulled out his wand and tapped the door to enter.

Hanging on the walls of the hall way were snake-shaped gas lamps that cast a greenish light, a light that matched the color of the carpet, upholstery, and leather armchairs surrounding a small table. Alphard was convinced that it would be difficult to find a family more proud of its tradition Slytherin.

Obviously, waiting for him, sitting on one of the armchairs, was his mother, Irma Black née Crabbe.

"You’re finally back" she welcomed him sipping a cup of tea. "Sit down" she pointed to the armchair in front of her.

Alphard obeyed. His mother was just over thirty years old. Her features were too pronounced to can call her pretty, but she was elegant and she had beautiful long lemon-colored hair pulled into a bun. Crouched at her feets, there was her faithful cat: Beelzebub.

Mrs Black poured him some tea.

"Alphard, tell me, do you think I'm being overlystrict?" she asked after Alphard drank.

"No, Mother".

Irma nodded. "No, it doesn't seem to me excessive to ask to thirteen-year-old boy…"

_... In less than two weeks he would have turned fourteen ..._

"...to go home by dinner time".

"I'm sorry, Mother, I've lost track of time. It won't happen again".

"What were you and your aunt doing that was so fascinating?".

"We studied" Alphard pulled the Ancient Runes book out of his bag to show her.

His mother looked perplexed. "I have always appreciated your dedication to studies, but now it seems to me that you’re exaggerating. Do you have problems in this matter?".

"No, in fact I really like it, I wanted to learn more and Aunt Dorea is an expert on Ancient Runes".

"Yes, she is, but I don't understand why you need her help to deepen a school subject. If Hogwarts can't satisfy your academic curiosity, I can hire a tutor to follow you over the holidays".

"It isn’t necessary" Hastened to reply Alphard. "Simply, I enjoy spending time with myaunt and Antiche Rune is a passionwehave in common".

His mother nodded meekly. "Yes, I know that you enjoy spending time with your aunt and that you and she have many passions in common, but I think you have spent enough time together during these holidays. In the last few days, I have hardly seen you, not to mention that you spent Christmas with her, a day that should be dedicated to family".

Alphard would have liked to point out that Aunt Dorea in that his father's sister and his godmother, was part of the family. "I had lunch here" he said instead "and Father had given me permission to attend the Potters' ball".

"Yes, your father has curious opinions about where it's appropriate for my children to go" replied Irma.

She finished sipping the tea. "Well, as I said before, I think you and your aunt have spent enough time together. Until the end of the winter holidays, you can't more to go out".

Alphard didn't dare argue, he knew it would only make the situation worse, but he began frantically to think of a solution.

"It's late, it's time for you to go to sleep". His mother smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead to wish him goodnight.

Alphard headed for the marble staircase leading to the upper floors, and went up to the fourth floor, where his bedroom and those of his siblings were located. They were both awake and waiting for him on the large landing that they used as living room.

"But how much idiot are you?" his sweet older sister greeted him, sitting on the chaise longue near the window. Among them she was the only one who had something of their mother (in the marked features, in the expression of the face, in the bearing), but Irma's thin blond hair had been replaced by thick black hair, and instead of the Crabbes' small pale eyes, Walburga had the Blacks' dark eyes. Furthermore, Walburga was taller than her mother and had an androgynous physique.

"I didn't want to disobey" Alphard difended himself. "I have lost track of time".

"The fact that you did something you didn't want to do makes you even more idiotic" argued Walburga.

Cygnus, who was a Metamorphmagus like Alphard and their father, in that moment had long wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. He handed him a pocket watch with an angelic smile: "I donate it to you, it serves to measure the passage of time. Tomorrow, I'll teach you to use it, if you want".

"Ah, ah, ah. You're hilarious, little brother". Alphard dropped on to an emerald green pouf, while his brother, convinced that being really hilarious or maybe just happy that his older brother was in trouble, giggled under his breath: his eyes became darker and his hair shorter, crew cut, and dark green.

Walburga kept her arms crossed and frowned at him: "Did our mother put you in detention?".

"I can't leave the house until the holidays are over" confirmed Alphard.

Walburga shookher head. "You know she give importance a curfew, what you were doing so interesting that you didn't realize you were late for dinner?".

"Aunt Dorea was talking to me about how the rune sowilo..."

"You’re hopeless" interrupted him Walburga, then got up, went to her room, the largest of the three, and shut herself inside.

His brother, who was still giggling, seemed that want to imitate her, butAlphard stopped him.

"Cygnus, you know all the students in your year, right?" he asked.

Cygnus seemed surprised by the sudden change of subject. "Yes, although I have never spoken to some of them".

Alphard nodded. Cyguns was quite sociable, at least more so than him. "By any chance, do you know a kid with black hair, green eyes, glasses and a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead? He is as tall as you are and he's very thin".

"No, I can't think of anyone".

Alphard was disappointed: so, the Stranger wasn’t a freshman.

"Why this question?" inquired his brother "Oh, wait, does this have to do with the boy who Apparated at the Potters' house?".

"Yes, he was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, but I don't remember ever seeing him".

Cygnus took on a suspicious expression: "And why did you ask me this question now?".

"Because Aunt Dorea told me that today he woke up".

Cygnus looks astonished: "Did she go to see him?".

"No, he's in a reserved room, where visitors aren't allowed, but by chance it was entrusted to the Healer Longbottom, the brother of the cousin Harfang, as well as a friend of the Potters: it was he who said it to her".

"So? Who is he? Why did he sneak into the Potters' House?".

"He claims to have lost his memory".

"And is it true?".

"Who knows. It will be up to the Healers to find out".

Cygnus, for some unknown reason, smiled. "Well, it sounds like an interesting story and you're the only witness".

"Hardly. There was a lot of people at the Potters' house, it was a ball".

His brother gave him a grin: "But you are the only one who has seen him appear, aren't you? There was just you in the library at that moment, right?".

Alphard wondered what he would have said if he had known that he was also the only one to have seen him wake, that he had been the first to speak to him and that he was determined to find a way to visit him the next day. "What do you want to tell? That he appared surrounded of the Fiendfyre and evoked the Grindelwald's sign?".

Cygnus rolled his eyes. "Nothing so melodramatic, of course. In fact, we don't even have to say what you know, it will be enough to suggest that you know something".

Alphard snorted. His brother breathed the thin air of Slytherin for only four months, Alphard could not conceive how Cygnus could already be so deeply entangled in the intrigues of their mates; intrigues which Alphard had skill fully avoided for nearly three years. But, in all likelihood, the difference between them was all there: Alphard didn't want to get involved; Cygnus, instead, happily wallowed between secret plots and power struggles.

"Tell what you want," he granted "but make sure no one bothers me".

Cygnus nodded, but, judging by the expression on his face and his hair turned ashen, he disapproved. Fortunately, Alphard didn't care about his opinion. He said goodnight to his brother and headed for his room.

His room was in shades of blue, with a king size four-poster bed, shiny furniture, a fireplace in which a crackling fire burned and a comfortable armchair –Alphard had spent countless nights reading sitting there-. Next to the door there was a large desk with a tray full of sandwiches and a jug full of pumpkin juice. Alphard smiled at the sight. He knew who had provided his dinner and he also knew that it had done so on his own initiative, without having received orders from anyone. He grabbed the tray and sat in the armchair, lifting his feet to place them on the ottoman. Sometimes, he wondered what it said about him, the fact that the one he liked best, among the residents of Grimmauld Place, was Rella, their house-elf.

Gaheris, his black and white spotted kneazle, he woke up stretching and walked over to boy. Alphard stroked him while he nibbled on thoughtfully. Thinking Rella made him remember of the Stranger. There were several secret passages in Grimmauld Place, a couple of which led out of the house, but Alphard quickly ruled out the possibility of sneaking out. His mother wasn't a fool, even with the help of his siblings (whom he wasn't sure he could count on anyway) Alphard wouldn't be able to cover his absence for more than a couple of hours and if his mother found out, she would have been able to lock him in house for all summer. Even facing his mother directly wouldn't have work: she never changed her mind after making a decision, so what he needed was to receive permission to go out of someone who had more authority than her mother: his father, his grandfather and the Grandmother.

His father would have gladly helped him, but at the moment, he was travelling to the Sahara on a flying carpet in search of magical artifacts; even if Alphard sent him an owl, Pollux Black wouldn't have abandon his research just to force his wife to free their son. His grandfather, that his mother worshiped, was unfortunately unreasonable and stubborn how much Irma about his youngest daughter. So, in reality, there was only one person who Alphard could ask.

The next day, when Alphard entered in the reception aerea of St. Mungo's, Aunt Dorea and Charlus were already there waiting for him. Charlus, who wore the white uniform of the Apprentices Healers, was tall with brown crew-cut hair and dark eyes, greeted him with a pat on the shoulder: "I was convinced that your mother would not let you leave the house" he said.

"The Grandmother helped me" explained Alphard.

Dorea grinned: "As always, the Grandmother seizes every opportunity to vex Irma".

Alphard just shrugged carelessly. He found the countless conflicts within his family exhausting and even a little childish –between his aunt and his grandfather, between his mother and the Grandmother, between his mother and his father–but disapproval had never stopped him from exploiting them to derive personal benefits.

Charlus pointed to the stairs leading to the upperfloors: "Shall we go?".

Aunt Dora nodded and preceded them.

"News?" asked Alphard as they went up.

"Few," said Charlus "I have been here since dawn: the Healers have examined him since six, but, for now, we can only say that he's a wizard".

Alphard had forgotten that there was still that issue at stake.

"And is he really amnesic?" he inquired.

"No doubt. Rita Schneider, our best Psyche Healer, examined his mind for two hours. He has self-awareness, a well-defined character and various notions about both our world and the Muggle one, but no memory related to personal history".

"Have you already contacted the Ministry?".

"Yes, thanks to my father, Healer Prewett managed to get a fireplace interview with Mrs. Rookwood who works Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophe, but she only gave us more questions to answer".

"What do you mean?".

"He hasn’t the Trace" Charlus answered with a whisper.

Aunt Dorea was visibly surprised: "How is it possible?".

"No one know it".

"I never understood how the Trace works" intervened Alphard "nor what it is for".

"In what sense 'you didn't under stand what it is for'" asked him Aunt Dorea.

"Well, it's not like it ever stopped Walburga from doing magic outside of school".

Charlus nodded: "The Trace is able to detect the places where a spell is performed and to tell which wizards and witches are in that area at that time, but it cannot associate the magic performed with the wizard or witch so it's essentially ineffective with underage wizards and underage witches with a magical family".

"So what is it for?" insisted Alphard.

"It's to keep Muggles' children under control" was Aunt Dorea's outspoken reply. "A child born magical is expected to grow up with an awareness of the importance of the International Statute of Secrecy, or at least have a family who can ensure that he isn't showing off in front of Muggles, but few believed that the Muggle-borns would have had the same foresight. The Ministry, therefore, has a map of Britain and of Ireland in which spells of revelation have been applied. There are red dots with names for the underage wizards, nameless blue dots for adult wizards, and golden trails that appear when a spell is cast. If a golden trail appears where there are red dots, but there aren't blue dots, the alarm goes off".

"How do you deceive it?".

"You can't, it's a very powerful magical artifact" explained Charlus "and never lies".

"But now it's lying" said Alphard "because it doesn't reveal the presence and name of this boy".

Charlus nodded: "And that's not all".

"What else is there?". For some unknown reason, Aunt Dorea smiled electrified. It looked like they were discussing an exciting new riddle that appeared in _The Number Seven_ , instead of a kid's fate.

"He's a wizard, no doubt about that, and he must be English because he only speaks English and with a British accent, yet he haven’t the Trace and Professor Dumbledore claims his name isn’t in the Hogwarts' Book of Admittance".

"An underage English wizard who hasn't been admitted to Hogwarts and who hasn't the Trace" Aunt Dorea recapitulated in an excited tone. "He could be an excellent subject of study".

Both Alphard and Charlus stiffened. "He’s a patient of the San Mungo's" the latter said sternly.

Aunt Dorea rolled her eyes: "I swear not to compromise his psychophysical state" she promised in asing song tone.

Charlus didn't seem convinced and neither was Alphard, but Aunt Dorea ignored them, quickly passed the last three steps that led to the fourth floor and quickly reached the room of the Stranger. She already had her hand on the door handle when Charlus warned her: "I have promised Preston it will be a short visit: he's still weak, he gets tired easily, and this morning they have already stressed him a lot".

Aunt Dorea nodded and entered, Alphard and Charlus quickly followed her.

The Stranger was lying on the bed and staring at Aunt Dorea with a wary expression, however as soon as he saw Alphard he smiled warmly. Alphard couldn't help but reciprocate.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine" the Stranger whispered, watching Aunt Dorea and Charlus.

"They told me it has been a busy morning".

The Stranger shrugged: "Everyone keeps asking me questions which I don't know the answers".

Alphard stroked the Stranger’s hair, hoping to be able to comfort him.

"Alphard, you introduce us?".

Alphard turned his gaze towards his aunt. The excited air had vanished and now she stared him and the Stranger, frowning.

"Sure, she's my aunt Dorea and he's her fiancé, Charlus".

"Charlus Potter" he specified.

The Stranger turned white, but Dorea hastened to clarify: "Quiet, he's not here as a Potter".

"I am an Apprentice Healer » Charlus explained «I spend most of my time two floors up, in the Healing School, just wanted to make sure you were okay. My father, my brother and my sister-in-law were very worried: they fear that they were the protections surrounding the house that made you faint".

Which, Alphard would have bet, was only partially true. The Potters certainly, in the first place, wanted to understand how that boy had overcome those protections. Well, they should have resigned themselves, the Stranger couldn't reveal what he didn't know.

"The Healers say I'll be fully recovered shortly" he reassured them. "So I apparead at your house?".

"In the family house, in reality, the Iolanthe's Nest" specified Charlus. "I live in London".

"And where is Iolanthe's Nest located?".

Alphard frowned: hadn't they even told him the details of his appearance?

"In Stinchcombe". The boy looked puzzled. "It’s a small village in Gloucestershire".

This time, the boy recognized the name of the place, even though the Gloucestershire didn't seem to have any particular meaning to him.

"You’re a child" Aunt Dorea said softly, as if she were talking to herself.

Those words seemed to irritate the Stranger who, in a dry tone, replied: "I am almost fourteen".

"How do you know it?" asked Alphard.

The Stranger turned to him: "That Healer, Healer Taylor, made me get on a weighs with runes engraved on it and then he said I am thirteen years and ten months: apparently I was born on February 14, 1927".

Charlus and Aunt Dorea exchanged a surprised look. Alphard understood them: was that little fellow his age?

"Did they give you a name?" Charlus then asked. "It seems strange to me not knowing what to call you".

The Stranger nodded: "A woman from the Ministry came ... she said that until they find out who I am, I will be Magbob for the Ministry".

Alphard smiled: Magbob was the archaic term that in the eleventh century was used to define Muggle-borns and which meant "Bobbing up". Adequate. Aunt Dorea must have thought the same way, judging by her amused look.

Charlus, on the other hand, made a grimace. "Ok, for Magbob then, for the moment we will content ourselves". Then he looked at the watch he wore on his wrist "Well, I think we've bothered you enough, you need to rest".

The Stranger, _Magbob_ , gave Alphard a quick glance. "I’m not tired" he asserted "and I’m resting, I’m lying down".

Charlus smiled. "Yes, but I promised Healer Preston Longbottom that we won't stay long".

Magbob nodded, resigned. He had been unconscious for three days, lost his memory, was totally at the mercy of a bunch of extraneous, and didn't even have a say about the people he could be with and for how long. Alphard was really sorry for him. He began to take what he had brought with him out of his bag.

"We will meet again soon and, make time pass more quickly, I have brought you some things" he said "I don't know what you prefer, but rereading _Fantastic Beasts_ never hurts" he said placing the book on the bedside table. "Alternatively, if you like Quidditch..." he pulled out _Before the Snitch is caught_.

Magbob's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, I really like that book".

Alphard smiled. Magbob liked Quidditch, it was good news, but that book… "I don’t think it’s possible" he said softly "it’s on sale since Christmas".

Magbob frowned.

"These, however, are among my favorites" concluded by extracting _Magical Theory_ and _Hogwarts: A History_. "and in case you don't like reading…" Alphard himself found it difficult to understand why he was worried about someone who might not like to read, but he pulled out a small globe, a chessboard you could play alone, and a deck of self-shuffling cards.

Magbob looked enchanted: "I ... Thanks, it wasn't necessary" he stammered, admiringall the objects on his bedside table. "You are really kind".

"Yes, Alphard is famous for his kindness" commented Aunt Dorea: her tone was dripping with sarcasm and her nephew looked at her badly. Magbob just looked puzzled.

"Well, now let's go" said Charlus letting his gaze wander from Magbob to Alpahard to the pile of objects on the bedside table.

Magbob greeted them, shaking his hand as they left, closing the door behind them.

"What do you think?" asked Charlus after they had gone away.

"I think none of this makes the slightest sense" answered Aunt Dorea.

"Yes, that guy should be impossible. It's impossible that he appeared at Iolanthe's Nest, it's impossible that he doesn't have the Trace, it's simpossible that he was not admitted to Hogwarts".

Aunt Dorea turned her gaze to Alphard: "Did you give him your chessboard?".

Alphard was surprised by the question, but just shrugged: "I have another it".

"But that was your favorite".

"Precisely for this reason I gave it to him: the pieces know many moves, they will be a good opponent".

"And you gave him some of your favorite books too".

"Which I know by heart and which I will buy back".

"You certainly don't know by heart _Before the Snitch is caught_ : You recently bought it".

"I'll buy that back too, of course".

Dorea shook her head, incredulous.

"What bothers you so much, Aunt?".

"I'm not bothered," argued Aunt Dorea "just perplexed. Are you the same boy who, at the age of eight, hexed his brother because he had stained his favorite book with chocolate?".

"It was Accidental magic" talked back Alphard in an exasperated tone.

"I'm just saying you're usually jealous of your personal possessions".

Alphard shrugged again. Indeed, he too was amazed by his behavior, but Magbob had aroused curiosity and compassion in him. He wanted to know his story and wanted to help him ... In this order.

"What will happen now?" Aunt Dorea asked to her fiancè.

"I have no idea" was Charlus’ useful response. "Physically, he's fine and since he's aware of himself and controls his powers, he isn't a danger to the International Statute of Secrecy: if he weren't a underage or if he had a place to go, we would discharge him".

"But he is an underage and he has nowhere to go" summarized Aunt Dorea.

"Then, we'll have to find him a house".

***

Hogwarts was being repopulated and Albus was happy about it. Classes would only resume on Monday, but already after the New Year, many students had begun to return. In fact, the students who decided to spend the winter holidays at home, had to indicate the day, time and way in which they would return and, only if it was not possible to stagger arrivals, they being imposed upon them to return all together, the evening before classes began on the Hogwarts Express.

Albus sipped his strawberry cocktail as he observed the students in the Great Hall.

At Slytherin's table, the school's brightest student, Tom Riddle, quietly ate his roast surrounded by his friends. Albus smiled to himself. Indeed, he called them friends for lack of a better term, but to Albus, Tom looked like a young prince surrounded by his courtiers. He watched the group more carefully. To Tom's left and right were Dorcas Meadowes and Balthazar Selwyn, both, like every year, had decided to spend their holiday sat school. Dorcas, a clever and pretty third year girl, was discussing with Theodore Nott and Icarus Greengrass, seated across from her. Theodore and Icarus were also third years, both had spent Christmas at home and had returned the day before. Xenos Avery, on the other hand, was gorging himself on mashed potatoes and roast, pausing only to wash it all down with the pumpkin juice. Beside him, Alaric, the heir of the Rosiers, could not have represented a greater contrast: the young man (wavy blond hair, blue eyes and delicate features) was seated in regal way and carried, elegantly, small bites to his mouth, without speaking, but, Albus didn't doubt it, listening to everything very attentivally. Every so often, he paused to giveXenos a disgusted look. Balthazar Selwyn, instead, was explaining something to Owen Mulciber: there was a book, among them, on the table, and Balthazar was pointing out paragraphs. It was probably a tome of Charms. Albus helped himself to a slice of lemon pie. Owen was among the best of his year and would almost certainly be named Prefect the following year, but Charms was his weakness while it was among Balthazar's best subjects.

In Slytherin's third year, besides Dorcas, there were only two other female students: Nyx Malfoy and Michelle Zabini who, however, were seated as far away as possible from their roommate and from Riddle's group. Both were sitted faced with Nyx's older brother, Prefect Abraxas Malfoy, also surrounded by who Albus could only call followers, something between servants and bodyguards. Finally, sitting in the middle of the table, committed to enjoying the privilege of being able to ignore everyone, was Head Girl Amanda Bailey.

Of the most popular members of the House, only Roland Lestrange and the Black cousins were missing, who would return on Sunday afternoon. While Albus was wondering how young Lestrange would arrive that year (he never returned to the way he had indicated), a squat boy with marked features and shoulder-length brown hair entered the Great Hall. It was Augustus Rookwood, the only one not Slytherin in Tom's group. That year, for the first time, Rookwood had stayed at Hogwarts for the winter holidays. Albus suspected it had been a decision of his parents, both of whom were very busy (Mrs. Rookwood at the Ministry, Mr. Rookwood at the International Conference of Theorists of Magic that was taking place in Damascus). They probably thought it was useless for their son to come home for Christmas, since they wouldn't have time for him anyway. Augustus approached his "boss", whispered something in his ear, then greeted the others and went to the Ravenclaw table. He sat between his best friend, Alexander Bagman, and one of Albus' favorite students, Filius Flitwick. Filius was sitting on his usual pile of books and chatting animatedly with two other students dears to Albus, Sowa Shacklebolt and Millicent Bagnold.

And speaking of favorite students… Albus turned his gaze towards Gryffindor'stable. The McGonagalls, sister (Minerva, fourth year) and brother (Malcolm, third year) had returned that morning. They were sat next to each other, surrounded by the other members of the Quidditch team: the Chaser Susan Bennet; the Keeper Dustin McKinnon; the Beaters Benjamin Fenwick and Richard McLaggen and the Captain Rolanda Hooch. They were debating heatedly and Albus assumed they were devising new game schemes: at the moment, Gryffindor was at the top of the Quidditch Cup rankings. Albus frowned. Eventhough she was doing everything she could not to show it, Minerva was in a bad mood and Albus wondered if it had anything to do with her family situation. Minerva's mother, Isobel, had been one of his first students. She was a charming, bright and gifted girl: best-in-class at Charms, and Captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team. She seemed destined for success and Albus was among those who were disappointed to find that she had married a Muggle and had given up on Magic. Albus had never met the Reverend Robert McGonagall, but his daughter seemed to love him very much, so Albus could only deduce that the Revernd was an honorable man, but he had no illusions about what life must have been like at the McGonagall house: had a marriage between a witch and a muggle ever been happy? How could women who grew up with role models such as Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Morgana LaFay, Morrigan Sayre and Artemisia Lufkin be with men who lived in a world where women only got the right to vote only twenty-three years ago?

"So, do you have a meeting with Lynette Rookwood this afternoon?".

Horace's question, sitting next to him, distracted him from his thoughts.

The Headmaster Armando Dippet, sitting on the other side of Albus, replied: "Yes, she asked us for an interview via fireplace".

"Wasted time, as if the Hogwarts admission criteria could be changed" muttered Geoffrey Binns.

Albus realized he must have missed a large part of the conversation while watching the students. However, it was clear what they were talking about or rather who.

"Really, I don't understand" intervened Silvanus Kettleburn "because we can't admit him to Hogwarts".

The question wasn't addressed to anyone in particular, but as Albus was the Deputy Headmaster, and therefore the person in charge of the admissions procedures, he felt compelled to answer: "The Founders have bound admission to the school to two sentient magical objects: the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. The Quill warns the birth of every British and Irish magical child, the Book decides whether the child has enough magic to be admitted to Hogwarts. Only if both are in agreement, a magical child can become a student of this school and their judgment is final".

"What would happen if we welcomed some one who has not been admitted?" asked Peter Swan, the Muggle Studies teacher.

"Hogwarts wouldn't accept them" said Maho Miyazawa, the new Arithmancy teacher. Maho's Alma Mater was Mahoutokoro but, as Albus had been able to ascertain, in those months she had thoroughly studied the architecture of the school. "In the first place, the Hat couldn't sort them and the armor could even attack them, although, now that I think about it, it's more likely that the entrance gates won't even allow him to enter".

Peter was flabbergasted: "Why? This school has hosted Squibs and even Muggles".

"Not as students" pointed out Binns. "Hogwarts is magical and sentient: we would never be able to deceive it".

"Nobody is going to try" said Albus brightly. "Personally, I'm very grateful to the Founders for the admission procedure they devised: I don't even want to think how annoying it would have been to have to personally examine the children of wizards and witches and explain to their parents why I couldn't admit them to Hogwarts".

"But if the St Mungo's Healers are right, and this guy is at the level of our students, it means our admissions system is flawed" observed Galatea Merrythought, sipping some elven wine. Galatea, who had been the Albus' Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was two inches taller than him and looked even more imposing due to the mass of silvery curls and extravagant hats she used to wear: at that moment, a pointed hat with a stuffed mouse on top.

"I don't think the problem is our admission system" replied Albus. "Let's not forget that we are talking about an underage without the Trace: it's evident that the story of this boy is unique. Also, in reality the Pen and the Book are behaving in a unique way".

"Id est?" asked Silvanus.

Albus let out a deep sigh. "As I said, the Quill detects the birth of each magical child while, of fact, it's the Book that decides whether the child is a wizard or a witch, therefore, usually, it's the Quill that is less restrictive".

"However…?" Galatea encouraged him to continue.

"However, this time the exact opposite is happening. The Quill doesn't seem to want to move from its ink well while the Book is wide open and, from time to time, flutters around the Quill as if to convince it to write something. I have never witnessed such behavior".

"Neither me too" confirmed Armando.

"Well, there're a lot of mysteries in this story, there aren't?" commented Horace. "You were at the Potters' ball, right, Galatea?".

Galatea nodded. "And I expected to see you" she said.

"They invited me," explained Horace "but, alas, Brutus’ invitation is arrived first".

He was referring to Brutus Malfoy, Abraxas and Nyx's father.

"So, did the boy really appear out of nowhere, as everyone say?" inquired Horace.

Galatea shrugged. "We should ask the to young Alphard Black" she answered. "He was the only one in the library, in that moment".

"Because he was in the library, during a ball?" asked Albus.

"I think there were too many people for his taste. He’s a shy boy".

'Shy' was not the term Albus would use. He believed that 'reserved' was more fitting or even 'antisocial'. Of course, if the touch stone was the sister, anyone would have seemed shy.

"Anyway, yes, Alphard Black claims the Stranger appeared out of nowhere".

"And when he wake up was discovered that he's amnesic?" summed up Horace.

"That's right, that I know of, he's still at St Mungo’s" answered Galatea.

"It’s so" confirmed Albus.

Horace sighed. "Poor Lynette, she has a hard row to hoe. An underage boy, amnesic and without the Trace: a real danger for the International Statute of Secrecy and the Ministry already has so many problems in this period ..." He broke off, but everyone had understood what problems he was talking about.

Galatea frowned. "Do you think Grindelwald has something to do with it?".

Albus, too, had wondered it. Grindelwald stopped at nothing, not even children, the Stranger could be part of some twisted plan.

"Why would he have to send a wandless underage to the Potters' house?" retorted instead Horace.

Galatea didn’t answer.

"Regardless of what's behind it," intervened Armando "I'm sorry for the boy. Alone and without memories: I wish we could welcome him".

"Well, we can’t" said dryly Geoffrey. "Hogwarts decides who can be admitted to Hogwarts and this is what we will explain to Mrs. Rookwood. The Ministry will have to fend for itself. This story doesn't concernus".

But, as was often the case, Geoffrey Binns was wrong.

Two hours later, Albus and Headmaster Armando were in the latter's office and were arguing with Lynette Rookwood, whose blond head was sitting in the middle of the fireplace flames.

Mrs. Rookwood, consistent with the person she was, wasted no time in pleasantries: «Magbob must be admitted to Hogwarts».

Albus, sitting in a comfortable brown leather armchair, glanced quickly at Armando, who was curled up on himself in a corner of the sofa, and then, smiling, replied: "We cannot do it".

The witch, after giving him an angry look, seemed to decide to change tactics and, in a more quiet tone, said: "Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet, I assure you that I'm sorry to have to impose a student on you. I've always been convinced that the Ministry shouldn't interfere with Hogwarts affairs, but this is a matter of national security".

"Really!" Albus commented, still smiling. Dippet, on the other hand, put on an anxious expression.

A flash of irritation crossed the woman's light eyes again. "In all honesty, when Mr. Potter woke me up at five in the morning to discuss a little boy who had lost his way home, I was very irritated, but soon the uniqueness of the event has became evident. He isn't just an amnesic boy, he is an adolescent English wizard without the Trace, who has not been admitted in any magical school, but who has received an education. When I visited him, I had the opportunity to question him on many issues: he's confused, especially regarding recentevents, but he's talented and it's evident that at some point someone has instructed him. We must find out how it's possible, where he comes from, who is behind him and especially if there are other minors whose existence we ignore. He must be kept an eye on".

She spoke in a very excited tone and a vein began to throb in her temple. Armando was hanging on her words.

"It would be a risky situation for the International Statute of Secrecy even in normal conditions, but we are at war: we cannot afford to be unprepared".

"It’s all very interesting, but I don't understand what Hogwarts has to do with it" commented Albus. "I imagine that the Healers are perfectly able to keep an eye on him".

"Obviously the problem is that he can't stay for ever at St Mungo's: he's in perfect health".

"You mean, apart from the fact that he’s amnesic?".

If Mrs. Rookwood caught the sarcasm, she didn't show it. "Healers don't know how to help him recover lost memories, he may stay that way forever, but he can't stay at St Mungo's forever".

"Why not? There are those who stay at St Mungo's for life. Is still there the long-term residents' ward, right?".

Judging by the look she gave him, it was evident that Mrs. Rookwood thought he has gone crazy.

"The long-term residents' ward, it’s for people who have lost their mind".

"And that they would be a danger to the International Statute of Secrecy" pointed out Albus.

"That's right, that's not the case with Magbob".

"Yes, instead, an amnesic and without Trace underage is a danger to the International Statute of Secrecy. It has been you to say it, that's what we're talking about".

Mrs. Rookwood evidently had been caught off guard, but she didn't give up: "The long-term residents' ward is for people who are difficult to manage".

"But in that ward, there are also people who would have a family able to take care of them. This kid who came out of nowhere, who nobody knows anything about..."

"Stop it, Dumbledore! We wont lock him up in the closed ward with a bunch of mad men!" snapped finally the woman.

Albus smiled: "I understand, you don't want to lock him up because you're sorry for him. And what do you suggest, then?".

Mrs. Rookwood, who by now had lost her temper, took on a caustic expression: "Well, he's a nearly fourteen year old English wizard, what do fourteen year old English wizards usually do?".

"He cannot attend Hogwarts".

"Why? It's where he belongs".

"Mrs. Rookwood, you know because. You know about the Book and the Quill, you know that their judgment is final. We're bound. I hope I don't have to explain a high-ranking Ministry official what means".

The witch gave him an angry look: "I was hoping to be able to settlet his peacefully, but now I realize that unfortunately the Ministry will have to interfere in the affairs of Hogwarts. I'll consult the Minister. If Hogwarts excludes a kid like Magbob, then it's time to question its selection criteria with an Educational Decree".

Armando blanched and Albus didn't blame him: every Educational Decree, every law that diminished the Hogwarts' independence was a failure for the Headmaster and the governors, however Albus was convinced that it was an empty threat.

"I'll be happy to discuss the matter directly with Leo".

If the fact that Albus got along with the Minister who should have made that decision bothered her, Mrs. Rookwood didn't show it and with a brusque and final nod, she disappeared.

"We have nothing to worry about" said Albus immediately. "Her threats are empty: she cannot really impose the boy's registration by decree".

"Yes," agreed Armando "but she's right, isn't she? That boy cannot stay at the San Mungo's forever and like any young wizard he deserves a magical education".

"I agree, mine was a provocation, but there really is nothing we can do. You know the Book and the Quill".

Armando fell silent, got up and looked, with a melancholy gaze, at the Sorting Hat resting on a gold shelf.

"Helga Hufflepuff wanted Hogwarts to be willing to welcome all kids wished to learn magic, she wanted it to be the home of every young homeless wizard and every young homeless witch".

Albus' expression softened: "What do you want I do?".

Armando turned to him. "Take care of the boy. Find him a home, a place that has the approval of the Ministry and where he'll be protected and safe. I would do it personally, but you have a lot more knowledge than me, both in Britain and abroad".

Albus smiled, amused. Armando underestimated himself, the truth was that few would turn down a favor to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but Albus was happy that his old teacher was convinced that whatever he could do, his deputy could do it better.

"All right" he agreed. "I got it".

Hours later, as he listened to Magnificat, lying on his bed with his eyes closed, Albus wondered what he would do.

Armando wanted that boy to find a home and receive an education, Lynette Rookwood wanted that house to be where the Ministry could keep an eye on him. 'And I? What do I want?'. He thought back to the Galatea hypothesis. If this was all about Grindelwald, then Albus had to make sure the boy's new home was where _he_ could keep an eye on him. Hogwarts would have been the perfect place, but ...

"There are alternatives to Hogwarts, of course" he muttered in a low voice.

Foreign, less prestigious wizarding schools, with less stringent admissions procedures and, at worst, Albus could be able to find him a private teacher.

«Tina Scamander would accept and Adalbert too, perhaps» he whispered.

Fawkes, perched on top of the wardrobe, trilled softly and Albus laughed at himself.

«You're right, I should at least get to know this guy before I start planning the rest of his life».

So it was that the next day, around ten in the morning, Albus crossed the threshold of the waiting room of the San Mungo's. Waiting for him was Healer Preston Longbottom, to whom he had sent an owl the day before to announce his arrival.

The wizard grinned at him. "We hadn't seen each other for a long time".

"This term has been very busy" explained Albus as they headed upstairs.

Preston nodded. "Did Jasper and Algie return, yesterday?".

Albus smiled. "Yes, sure".

Preston's eldest son, Jasper, was Head Boy; the younger, instead, was in the third year and both were Gryffindors.

"Children grow up so fast. I can't believe Jasper is in his senior year, nor that he'll be an Apprentice Auror next year. That is, if he'll be admitted, of course".

"He’ll be admitted" reassured him Albus. "You raised a skilled boy".

Preston's eyes sparkled with the pride that a son like Jasper couldn't help but arouse.

"So, how's the lost boy?" asked Albus, changing the subject.

Preston's expression darkened. "Fine, physically. He's underweight, but he doesn't seem malnourished. The only notes are the bones of the right arm which are less than two years old, the scar from a bite on one arm and a curse scar on the forehead".

"Two scars and a de-boned arm: a remarkable track record for a 13-year-old" observed Albus. «ì"And psychologically, how is he? How do you handle the situation?".

Preston stiffened. "What do you mean?".

Albus shrugged casually. "I guess it's not easy for him to be locked in here all day".

"No, it’s not".

"And this is a hospital, not a nursery".

"Magbob would be too old for a nursery, anyway".

"Therefore? How are you handling this teenager? Does he stay locked in his room all day? Is he that docile? Or maybe, is there some Healer who keeps him company?".

"Like you said, this is a hospital. No, no Healer can afford to spend their days entertaining a kid" replied Preston dryly.

Albus suppressed a sigh. He and Preston had discussed several times about the way the St Mungo's handled the people with incurable mentalillness, Albus should have imagined that the Healer would have thought that his curiosity was hiding a criticism: he tried to explain himself.

"I have certain experience with teenagers" he said. "I can't believe a healthy guy can stand being in a room all day".

Preston gave him a cautious look. "He doesn't stay locked in a room all day. We moved him to the reserved ward, but he's free to go around the hospital with some rules" he explained.

"What’s he like?".

"Seems like a good guy. He's shy, calm and obedient. He's tolerating the situation well, at least. Sure, it's probably thanks to the frequent visits he receives".

"Visits?". Albus was surprised. "Visits from whom?".

"From one of the Black kids, the one who found him. He comes every day. Now they are together in the tearoom" he added as they passed the floor where the closed ward was located. "It's almost a shame that Alphard has to return to Hogwarts, Magbob will miss him very much".

They had reached the beaten wooden doors of the tearoom and Albus made a decision. He smiled at Preston and said: "If you don't mind, I'd rather go in alone".

Preston was caught off guard. "Don't you want me to introduce you?".

"I can do it myself, Alphard already knows me and I think I've already stolen enough time to you".

Preston hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and greeted him.

Albus waited for him to walk away, then closed his eyes and cast a Disillusionment Charm. He entered, opening the doors the bare minimum and slipped inside, silently. There were only about ten people in the room, he immediately spotted Alphard Black and Magbob. They were sitting on a sofa placed in front of a coffee table and giggling while playing with one of those expensive miniature globes that allowed you to take virtual trips around the world. Albus approached the couple, and stood behind them.

"Now, my father is here" was explaining Alphard by pointing a place in North Africa. "He bought a flying carpet, I can't wait to try it".

"How many ways can you fly?" asked Magbob.

"At the moment? Only with broomsticks, carpets or flying magical creatures. The family of my sister's best friend, Roland Lestrange, raises winged horses. In fact, that's how we're going back to school tomorrow: astride his Aethonans".

Albus raised an eyebrow, Roland Lestrange and the Black cousins had declared that they would be back to school by Knight Bus.

"How will you keep from being seen by Muggles?" asked Magbob, hanging from Alphard's words.

"Our cousin Arcturus is a Charms Master. He will cover everyone with a Disillusionment Charm".

"That sounds great" sighed Magbob, with the face towards window.

Alphard frowned and met the boy's gaze. "This summer" he said firmly "I'll take you to Roland's house so you'll can try".

Magbob managed to smile.

"And in these months I will write to you very often: Hogwarts has an owlery, available to all students".

Albus was quite surprised. Although Alphard was not in his House, he thought he knew him well, yet this caring side was new to him. Alphard certainly didn't behave like that with his brother and sister, but on the other hand, Albus himself, at his age, was kinder to his schoolmates than to Aberforth and preferred to spend time with his friends rather than Ariana.

"I know it" said Magbob, perhaps referring to the owlery.

Alphard didn't ask him how he knew, so it could be information that the young Black did not remember having already shared or it was information that Magbob already had and Alphard was too used to the Stranger to ask questions.

Albus decided it was time to be seen and muttered a counter spell as they both looked in an other direction.

"Good Morning Alphard, would you introduce me to your new friend?".

Both boys winced and turned to him. It was evident that they were wondering where he had come from and and how they had managed not to notice him before.

"Professor Dumbledore… Good Morning" said Alphard, hesitated a moment before continuing: "Magbob, this is Professor Dumbledore. Professor, this is Magbob".

Albus gave the dark boy one of his most reassuring smiles. "Pleased to meet you".

The Stranger didn't react, he had a dreamy expression.

"Sorry to be rude" continued Albus "but I really need to talk to Magbob alone, Alphard".

Young Black didn't look happy, but he nodded and stood up. Magbob revived. "Do you come back?" he asked anxiously.

"I don’t believe" replied Alphard and seemed genuinely sorry. "My mother wants us to prepare for the back to Hogwarts".

"So ... this is the last time we see each other".

"Until the spring holidays" assured him Alphard.

They greeted each other with a melancholy wave of the hand and Albus found himself alone with the Stranger. He took Alphard's place and ordered a hot chocolate. After being served, he turned his attention back to the kid next to him.

"You know me" he asked.

The boy nodded. "Alphard told me a little about Hogwarts. You are Professor Dumbledore: Deputy Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor House and Head of Transfiguration department".

"What else do you know about Hogwarts?".

"Not much. It's the best school of magic in the world and it has four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Students are sorted with a hat that reads minds and...".

"Did Alphard tell you?". Albus interrupted. He kept smiling, trying not to let any emotion leak out, but in reality he was stunned. Not many were aware of it, but the Sorting Hat was protected by the Fidelius Charm of which the Secret Keeper was the Headmaster: this was the reason why even the freshmen from ancient families did not know what the Sorting would consist of. How did this boy do to find out?

"No, Al didn't tell me. I ... I just know".

Albus was beginning to worry. "Is there something else you just know?" he asked encouragingly.

"I know it's a castle in Scotland and that you arrive there by scarlet steam train" answered the boy.

At least these were informations he could have found in _Hogwarts: A History._

Magbob was restless, even as he tried to hide it. His eyes were fixed on Albus and scrutinized his every move, as if expecting to be attacked, then he put a hand through his hair, twisting a rebellious tuft nervously. It was then that Albus noticed the curse scar Preston had told him about. It really had a particular shape, plus there weren't many scars that magic could not heal.

"Can I?" he asked with a reassuring smile and a hand suspended in mid air pointing to his forehead.

The boy nodded and Albus pushed aside some unruly tufts from his face to examine the scar. As he traced its boundaries with his fingers, he could almost feel it throbbing. Yes, undoubtedly Dark Magic. His eyes met ones of the boy, whose color reminded him of the killing curse. The movement of the wand associated with the Avada Kedavra was that of the sowilo rune, the shape of which was identical this boy's scar.

"Does it cause you problems of some kind? Does it bleed sometimes? Or does it hurt you?".

"It never bled, but when I woke up..." he broke off, hesitantly. "In fact, I think it was the pain in my scar that woke me up," he concluded "but it only happened that time".

A nightmare, Albus understood with the Legilmancy, the boy was having a nightmare, then his scar had started to hurt and he had woken up. Magbob thought that it had been an important dream, but he couldn't remember it, well, just as he couldn't remember anything.

"Interesting" said Albus. He was undecided. He knew what his brother's opinion was about his use of Legilmancy and he himself was perfectly aware that he was doing something he shouldn't have done, but how could he choose not to investigate? How it could to be wrong, to use all possible means he had to try to discover something more? Especially now that they were at war?

Albus looked the boy straight in the eye and thought: 'Legilimens!'.

A series of images quickly followed in his head. Alphard Black above all, Alphard Black who smiled, Alphard Black who told him funny anecdotes about Hogwarts, Alphard Black who beat him at chess ... Now, however, he was alone and was staring at the wall with a melancholy air, he was afraid even if he didn't want to admit it, neither with himself ... That was Mrs Rookwood and she was asking him a lot of questions he didn't know the answers ... Now Healer Schneider was reading his mind, Schneider was kind, but he was feeling so violated ... Now he was reading a book on Quidditch , enjoying every word, even though he was sure he had already read it ... What would he have given to be able to fly ... Did he had a family? Was there someone was looking for him?

Albus blinked a couple of times and then gave the boy a careful look: no, he hadn't noticed anything. Albus felt relieved. Apparently, Magbob really had nothing to hide.

"As you said" he started "I am a Hogwarts teacher, but I'm also a member of the Wizengamot. Do you know what Wizengamot is?".

"The parliament of magical Britain" answered the boy.

"Yes, I guess that's the thing most resembles the muggle parliament" agreed Albus. "I was appointed two years ago and it is mainly in this capacity that I am here today".

Magbob seemed to have understand. "Have you decided… where will I go?" he asked.

Albus nodded. "Yours is a unique situation. We fail to understand why you were not admitted to Hogwarts, but you are a wizard and as a young wizard you deserve an education".

"So?" urged him Magbob.

"My friend Aisling Jordan, founded a small school in Southern Ireland, the Green Academy. Most of the students are pre-Hogwarts kids or squibs, but I talked to her and she agreed to become your teacher".

His words were greeted by silence. Albus guessed that Magbob had a lot of questions to ask him but that he didn't know where to start.

"I ... So you want me to move to Ireland?" he finally said.

"Well, yes, that was the idea" Albus confirmed sipping his chocolate. "It would be difficult to attend the Green Academy from London".

Magbob did not seem very happy, he was probably thinking of Alphard, but the question he asked was another: "How…?" he bit his lower lip. "I mean, I have no money, how ...?".

"Headmaster Dippet has decided to fully cover the cost of your stay and your studies at the Green Academy".

"Why? He doesn't even know me".

"He knows that you're thirteen and that you're alone: that's reason enough for him to want to help you in any way he can, he's that kind of person".

"I’d like to thank him" said blushing Magbob, but looking him firmly straight in the eyes.

"I'm sure you will have the opportunity to do so" Albus reassured him with a quick glance at his pocket watch: if he wanted to warn Horace that the young Lestrange and the Black cousins would arrive flying, he had to hurry. "I would say there is only one issue left to settle".

"That is?".

Albus smiled at him. "We can't keep calling you just Magbob, you can keep it as a surname, but you also need a real name".

"Like?"».

"What you want, it has to become _your_ name, after all".

The Stranger thought it for a moment. "I don’t know".

"Maybe a name with a meaning that can inspire you?" suggested Albus. "Or perhaps the name of some famous wizard? As long as you don't choose Merlin, the Ministry will agree".

"Maybe… could I… could I call myself Kilian?".

"That is, "war" in Gaelic?".

"I thought about Kilian as Kilian McKinnon, that famous squib".

"I only know one Kilian McKinnon" commented Albus "and he's not a squib".

Magbob looked confused. "But there was a squib named Kilian McKinnon". He insisted. "He died trying to defend a muggle village from powerful dark wizards".

"Are you sure it’s not the novel plot?" said Albus softly. "A story like that, I would remember it".

The Stranger blushed. "Maybe" he mumbled.

"Anyway, I like the name you've chosen and the Kilian McKinnon I know is a good wizard".

Magbob nodded.

"So, will you be Kilian Magbob from now on?".

"Yes" said Magbob firmly.

Both would discover it only the following day, but as soon as the Stranger confirmed, the Book of Admission opened and the Quill of Acceptance with a clear hand writing wrote a new name: Kilian Magbob had been admitted to Hogwarts.


	2. The travel

_**Chapter II** _

_**The travel** _

Kilian wondered if Professor Dumbledore was mildly insane or extremely brilliant.

At that moment, they were crossing Diagon Alley, side by side. Dumbledore wore a sumptuous midnight blue cloak over which gold stars and silver planets were embroidered, his long auburn hair was gathered in a ponytail, his blue eyes, even behind the lenses, were sparkling and he moved quickly, but gracefully. He seemed to be surrounded by an aura of light, he transmitted great energy and if, at a certain point, he had taken flight, he wouldn't have surprised Kilian.

The boy supposed that, compared to the teacher, he must look ... gray: he was short, thin and wore the old robes of one of the Healer Schneider's sons. Not that he cared. He glanced at the floating trunk following them (a trunk full of clothes and textbooks) and his hand reached for the letter that was in his pocket.

_Dear Mr Magbob,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Whitchcraft and Wizardry._

Kilian still couldn't believe it. He had reread the letter for days and by now he could have repeated it by heart and backwards, but he was still afraid of waking up and discovering that it had been just a good dream.

The day after their first meeting, Dumbledore had returned to St Mungo's, he had announced that Kilian had been admitted to Hogwarts, he had handed him the letter and Kilian, for the first time since he had awakened, and therefore for _the first time_ , he had thought that everything would work out, that he would have been fine: if he could attend Hogwarts, there was hope.

In fact, he didn't know why it was so important to him to go to Hogwarts, but the letter Dumbledore had delivered him was the only thing he felt fair in that mess that was his life. The Green Academy might be the most beautiful school on earth, but he belonged to Hogwarts. He knew it. He felt it.

Dumbledore turned right, behind a second-hand robe shop. Phebe and the flying trunk hurried to follow him. It was almost sunset.

The day before, he and Dumbledore had dined in the St. Mungo's tearoom.

“Professor Dippet and I have had a long discussion on how to proceed” the teacher explained as he dipped marshmallows in hot chocolate. “I don't think it would be fair to ask you to move to Hogwarts right away. Healer Longbottom and Healer Schneider say that you are still a little disoriented and that it would be better to proceed gradually”.

Kilian felt ready to leave for Scotland immediately, but those people, those strangers, had and were doing a lot for him and Kilian imagined that the least he could do to thank them was to be cooperative. Furthermore, Kilian feared that if he didn't show himself grateful and obedient, Dumbledore could still decide to send him to the Green Academy.

They had arrived in front of a staircase that flanked a stationery store. Professor Dumbledore went up, always followed by Kilian and the trunk, and stopped on the first floor, in front of an oak door. There was a knocker, but Dumbledore took out a small copper key and opened the door. As soon as they entered, with a spell, the teacher lit the candles of the chandelier. They were in a small, chaotic bedsit. It urgently needed an airing, wherever Kilian looked there were books and rolls of parchment (on the table, on the bed, on the chair, on the floor) and it was evident that whoever lived in that house, it was not used to receiving guests.

Dumbledore laughed, looking around. “Miranda has always been… well, like this” he said, pointing to the dirty dishes piled up on the sink and the floor so cluttered with objects that it was difficult to move. The trunk, in fact, was probably still levitating because it didn't know where to rest. “But,” he added “she's really brilliant. She was the best of her year, Medal for Magical Merit”.

Kilian nodded, the untidiness didn't bother him.

Dumbledore took a sealed scroll of parchment from his pocket and handed it to him. “Give it to her when she arrives”.

Kilian slipped the roll into his pocket, but he was amazed. “Won't you stay waiting for her with me, professor?”.

“Unfortunately, I can't. This evening the Transfiguration Club is meeting: I'm the supervisor and I'm already late”. He smiled warmly. “We’ll meet again soon”.

“Goodbye”.

The teacher opened the door, but before leaving, he turned back to him and said: “Good luck, Kilian”.

“Thanks” answered the boy heartily.

Dumbledore went out and bolted the door. Kilian heard the key enter the lock and make a couple of turns: he had locked him inside.

He began to look around again. There were simply a lot of things, everywhere, making the apartment more like a warehouse than a house, an impression reinforced by the absence of windows. Kilian approached one of the walls. They were covered with papers: drawings, spell formulas, potion ingredients, photos, newspaper articles, notes. Kilian was observing what appeared to be a pattern of the orbits of Jupiter's moons when he sensed that someone was moving behind him. He grabbed his new wand and turned quickly, but it was too late: a spell hit him in the chest and his back slammed violently against the ceiling. The pain was excruciating and Kilian closed his eyes for two seconds, breathless. When he opened them again, the situation had not changed. He was hanging from the ceiling, tied with invisible laces and from that height he could only watch helplessly the woman who had hit him.

The witch murmured: “Expelliarmus” and Kilian's wand flew in her hands.

“Who are you, how did you get in and what do you want” she asked in a stony tone. She had a long, beaked nose, protuberant eyes, limp, shoulder-length brown hair, long black gloves, and a gray cloak draped over her shoulders.

“Are you Professor Goshawk?” asked Kilian in a faint voice. The pain in his back made difficult for him to breathe.

“Who are you, how did you get in and what do you want” the woman repeated, unstressed.

“I’m Kilian Magbob…” he said struggling for every word. “Professor Dumbledore let me in… He said you had agreed to host me until September”.

The witch's face showed no emotion. “Can you try it?” she asked.

“I have a letter from him. It's in the pocket”.

The woman moved her wand and the Dumbledore's letter came out of Kilian's pocket and ended up in her hands. She opened it and read it. And then she reread. And then she did it again. When she looked back at Kilian, still hanging from the ceiling, the mask of imperturbability had disappeared to leave room for disbelief. Eventually, she released him and let him get off slowly to the ground. She said nothing, but returned his wand and walked behind him. Gently, she removed his cloak and lifted his robe. “I’m sorry” she murmured. She pointed her wand towards the boy's back, murmured a spell and in an instant, Kilian's pain disappeared completely. He turned to thank her, but she was staring at the letter again.

“Are you Professor Goshawk?” asked Kilian again.

“Not a professor yet, but yes, unluckily I'm Miranda Goshwak”. The witch sighed, put the letter in her pocket, took off her cloak and headed for the stove. “Do you want some chicken broth?” she demanded.

“Thank you” answered Kilian. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what they say to someone who just attacked you. “Didn't you expect to find me inside your apartment?”.

“I didn't expect your existence” replied Goshawk as she lit the fire under a saucepan and, at the same time, took out two bowls.

“What do you mean?”.

“What did Dumbledore tell you about me and your stay here? Exactly”.

“Not much. He only said that the current Hogwarts Charms teacher will retire at the end of the year, that she will replace him and that she has offered to host me until September”.

While a ladle filled the two bowls, Goshawk stared at him coldly: “According to the letter, you only suffer from retrograde amnesia: your intellectual skills should not have been affected, nor should your ability to remember events subsequent to the event that caused the amnesia”.

Kilian blushed furiously. “It’s so”.

“So what makes you unable to follow simple instructions? I told you to say me exactly what Dumbledore told you, not your interpretation of his words and I know he certainly didn't tell you that ‘I have offered to host you’”».

“Well, no” answered Kilian, slightly irritated.

“Tell me his exact words” repeated Goshawk dryly.

Kilian sighed. “He said ... he said that you _could_ host me until September and that it would have done you good to have some company”.

Goshawk snorted, sat down at the table and invited Kilian to do the same. For a while they drank the broth, in silence.

“He hadn't said anything to me” said the witch after.

“Sorry?”.

“He hadn't said anything to me. I knew a little boy had appeared out of nowhere at the Potters' house, but I only found out now that Dumbledore expects me to host him until September. Ah, Dumbledore expects that I host him and that I ‘prepare him for Hogwarts’”. She took out the letter out of her pocket.

“He's almost fourteen years old and I would like to place him in class with his contemporarys. Make sure he's at the level of fourth year students" she read in a singsong tone.

Kilian stood still, incredulous. “I… What…”

His mind was trying to get used to the idea that one of the most brilliant wizards in the world, had entered without permission and without notifying the home of one of his former pupils, and also future colleague, to deliver her an amnesic boy, as if he were a gift package.

“I didn't even know he had a copy of the house key” added Goshawk as she finished drinking the broth. “Although I should have imagined it. It was him to find this apartment”.

“Well, that explains her reaction” said Kilian finally. ‘Insane’ he thought, ‘Dumbledore is insane’.

Goshawk nodded. “Yes, again, I'm sorry, but that's how I react when I find someone I don't know in my house”.

Kilian too had finished drinking. Goshawk levitated the cups to the sink, where they joined to the other dirty crockery.

“Well, for this night we have no other choice: you will sleep here”.

“For this night?” repeated Kilian wondering if he would spend the next few months moving from the house of one of Dumbledore's acquaintances to the house of another Dumbledore's acquaintance.

La strega scrollò le spalle. “I don't think I'll be able to convince Dumbledore that I _cannot_ take care of a little boy, but at least I want to try”.

In a different situation, Kilian would have replied that he didn't need someone to take care of him and that in any case it was strange that a woman who didn't consider herself capable of ‘taking care of a little boy’ was about to become a teacher, but since he didn't want to stay there, he wouldn't try to dissuade Goshawk.

The woman was staring at him intently, as if she were solving a complicated equation. “I’m tired” she said “and I want to go to sleep. Do you need something?”.

Kilian was hungry, but he didn't want to complain, so he shook his head and just asked: “Where can I sleep?”.

Goshawk looked around frantically, but there was still a single bed in the apartment. Finally, she grabbed the wand. The pile of books that was lying in a corner of the room moved onto the sideboard, freeing up a part of the floor that Kilian's trunk partially occupied. Blankets came out of the closet and joined together, forming a brown sleeping bag and, finally, gray curtains appeared out of nowhere attached to the ceiling. Kilian appreciated that the woman tried to offer him privacy.

“You will have to settle” said Goshawk. “I'm going to take a shower” she added, walking behind the yellow panel that was near the door of the house.

Kilian walked over to his new bedroom. He was exhausted. He put on his pajamas, took off his glasses, slipped into sleeping bag and fell asleep instantly.

He woke up at eight the next day. He was alone. Without wondering where Goshawk was, Kilian took a shower and changed. He wasn't sure he was allowed to make breakfast and didn't intend to upset the future teacher so he opened the trunk to search the Quidditch magazines that Alphard had given him.

The day before, he and Dumbledore had gone shopping. Dumbledore had explained to him that as a future Hogwarts student he was eligible for a scholarship. They had bought quills, scrolls, potion ingredients, books, and a magic wand. The wand was what Kilian had been most anxious to own. It was eleven inches long, of holly, with a phoenix tail feather inside. Mr. Ollivander had said that holly and phoenix feathers were an unusual combination, but what intrigued Kilian most was that the feather inside his wand belonged to Dumbledore's phoenix.

When he found the January issue of About Quidditch, he sat down on sleeping bag and began reading an article about the new signing of Puddlemore United. He was about halfway through article when Goshawk returned.

She took a look at his magazine, folded her lips in a grimace and asked: “Have you already had breakfast?”.

“No”.

“Aren’t you hungry?”.

“I didn't know if I could take something”.

“You can” she replied, starting to make porridge for both of them. “My house, apparently, is your house”.

“Have you talked to Dumbledore yet?” asked Kilian surprised.

“I went to the Leaky Cauldron to contact him via fireplace” explained Goshawk.

“And… ?”.

“And nothing. Until September, we will have to live together”.

“I’m sorry”. It seemed like the right thing to say.

“Me too” replied Goshawk.

They ate. Kilian was wondering if Goshawh felt the lack a window when the witch asked: “What is the meaning of the eihwaz rune?”.

“What?”.

“The meaning of the eihwaz rune” repeated Goshawk, slowly pronouncing the words as if speaking to a very stupid person.

“I don’t know it”.

“With what spell the Boggarts are repelled?”.

“Why are you questioning me?” replied Kilian.

“Yesterday, obviously, you were distracted” said, making tea. “Dumbledore wants to place you in the same class as your contemporarys, so I need to make sure your preparation is adequate. How do I do this if I don't know your current level? Now, with what spell the Boggarts are repelled?”.

“Riddikulus” answered Kilian.

“Where would you look for to find a bezoar?”.

“In the stomach of a goat”.

“Morgana equation”.

Kilian shook his head.

They continued for four hours. Goshawk asked him all sorts of questions, on all sorts of topics and, at times, asked him to perform charms or other spells. In the end, Kilian's head was about to burst, but the witch looked satisfied.

“You can call me Miranda” she said finally.

“What?”.

“I'm not your teacher yet and we will live together for the next eight months: you can call me Miranda”.

“Thanks… Miranda”.

“You aren’t bad”.

“Really?”. His situation was already strange, he didn't want to attend classes with kids younger than himself.

“I wouldn't lie to you about your preparation” she assured him.

“In fact, you don't need my help: right now, you would be perfectly capable of passing your third year Hogwarts exams. Your preparation in the seven basic magical disciplines is more than enough, you have a good smattering of Muggle Studies and your gaps in Magizoology can be easily remedied. Sure, you don't know anything about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but you don't necessarily have to know something of it”.

“What do you mean?”.

“A Hogwarts student is required to have a solid grounding in the seven basic magical disciplines: Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and Astronomy. From the third year onwards, instead, you have to choose two other courses between Care of Magical Creatures, Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Divination and Muggle Studies. As I said, the minimum number of supplementary courses to take is two, but the best students choose three or four, taking all five is impossible. I'm telling you this from personal experience. At the end of the fifth year, the first official evaluation is obtained with the O.W.L.s and you choose which subjects to deepen with the NEWTs courses. Again, most students get three or four N.E.W.T.s, but I have seven and I assure you it's doable. In the sixth and seventh year, it's also possible to follow a series of seminars on Alchemy”. Goshawk, Miranda, stood up and conjured a blackboard. “In short, if you chose Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures as optional subjects, we'll have little to do, so how about if I teach you something about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy? For Easter, you may be able to choose which courses you want to take. And while we're at it, we'll be able to review the other subjects”.

“I… Yeah, fine”. It had to be the right answer because Miranda, for the first time, smiled at him.

Classes began at that very moment, while Kilian was still recovering from his four-hour test, and they were… challenging. The first day they continued until nine in the evening. The next day they resumed at seven o'clock. They usually got up early, had breakfast, and then started with classes that continued until lunch. At that point, they often went out to eat, walk or run errands and when they returned Miranda would ask him questions about what she had explained in the morning or made him practice.

The first subject they faced was Divination. Miranda was stony about it.

“The Seers exist. Sight is a hereditary magical gift like being Metamorphmagi or Whisperer”.

“Who are the Whisperers?”.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “The Whisperers are wizards and witches born with the ability to speak to any sentient Magical Creature in their native language: Professor Dumbledore is a Whisperer”. She took a sip of water. “However, as I said, you are born a Seer, you don't become one. Usually, Divination is a course chosen by those who are under the illusion of possessing great hidden skills or by those who want to spend a couple of hours a week lazing around. Professor Lovegood, the Divination teacher at Hogwarts, is kind, always offers sweets to everyone and got a prediction right about twenty years ago, but as far as I know that he has never managed to teach anyone anything”.

The Ancient Runes lessons were much longer and much more boring

“These are the runes, well the main ones, anyway. They are one of the oldest alphabets in the world and preceded both Greek, Latin and English as a universal magical language. Now, they are almost never used, although they obviously retain their magical properties”.

And she continued with a tedious tale of their history.

“When you pronounce a spell, the movement of the wand mimics the shape of the runes. For example, this is Alohomora. And this is Wingardium Leviosa”.

And Kilian had managed to use these charms, even without knowing it.

“As you can imagine, knowledge of the runes is useful to the writers of Spells. In addition to this, they are used to create amulets. Visible or invisible, on every magical device, there are runes”.

Kilian mentally crossed out two possible future careers: writer of Spells and maker of amulets.

Then they switched to Arithmancy.

“Arithmancy has a very ancient history. Initially, it was a branch of Divination. A mistreated branch of Divination, used by those without Sight. Self-styled wizards and self-styled Muggles claimed that they could calculate people's personalities and the outcome of battles. All nonsense, however, Arithmancy had the merit of teaching magicians the logic, the rigor of the inductive method and, over time, it turned out that it could be used to solve magical problems”.

“In what sense?” asked Kilian as he cooked some peas to make a soup. Within two weeks, he had become the person in charge of preparing meals.

“Arithmancy is everywhere. In every aspect of magic. How many mouse tails do you add to the Forgetfulness Potion? Three or seven? The unicorn hairs to add to the Pepperup Potion? Always nine. To transform wooden objects you have to rotate the wand four centimeters. Obviously, knowledge of Arithmancy is also essential in the financial field, it helps to enhance rituals, to understand how to break curses and, of course, is the basis of Alchemy together with Transfiguration, Potions and Astronomy”.

To Kilian it all seemed very difficult and… well, not very useful. Why did he need to find out the reason three rat tails were needed in the Forgetfulness potion? Wasn't it enough that he knew three were needed? However, when they started practicing, he began to appreciate the subject. For one thing, there is almost nothing to study by heart (as opposed to Ancient Runes in which everything had to be memorized) and then ... he was good.

“As Muggle-born students usually are” commented his teacher.

Miranda was also passionate about Theory of Magic.

“Magical power comes down to three characteristics: will, intent and emotion. The strength, the power of the spell depends on the will. The intent is concentration: both on the moment and on the reason why the spell is performed. Finally, emotion is the fuel of magic. Keep in mind that any magic may need one of these ingredients more than the others, but the magic power is activated when you can control your emotions and focus them towards a goal”.

Kilian had found this part very interesting, but he had starting to get bored again when Miranda started listing the rules of Magic.

“Remember: in principle, nothing is created, nothing is destroyed, everything is transformed. You can make an object out of nothing, but it will hardly last. The objects created from nothing, are made up of pure magic: it's a dripping of energy and only the most powerful wizards and witches are able to do it, obtaining a stable result, but that however will not pass the test of time”.

While Kilian was cleaning the pots (he had also become the person in charge of washing dishes), Miranda was talking about the vectors of magic.

“The vectors allow the magician to focus his power. Wands are vectors, potion ingredients are vectors, broomsticks are vectors, amulets are vectors, and, of course, animals can be vectors too”.

This was new for Kilian. “Animals?”.

“Of course” commented Miranda impatiently.

“Do you think owls also deliver Muggle mail? The ability of wizards to be obeyed by animals is due to the magical power and the ability of a familiar tends to be linked to the skill of the magician, they are vectors of our power”.

Transfiguration lessons could be tedious or exciting, depending on what they were studying: theory or practice. However, they had discussed the Animagi a lot and passionately.

“The procedure to become one is long, complex and dangerous. The risk is to get stuck in the animal form, in an intermediate form or to die”.

“I'm surprised there are people willing to try”.

“It's a potentially useful skill” said Miranda, shrugging. “Furthermore, the process greatly fascinates Transfiguration scholars”.

“Is Professor Dumbledore an Animagus?”.

“Not that I know of, but he has helped many to become one”.

“How did he do?”.

“To avoid getting stuck in the animal form or an in-between form, you need someone that remembers to you who you are. A powerful wizard capable of anchoring you to reality and keeping you tied to your human form. Personally,” she added “the part that I find most fascinating in the Animagus transformation is self-discovery”.

“What do you mean?”.

“Your Animagus form represents your true self - it's fascinating. And, well, risky too, I guess: you don't always want others to know who you are”.

“Well, but the same goes for the Patronus”.

“Not exactly”.

“Does the form you take as an Animagus not match that of the Patronus?”.

“Almost always, but not always, unfortunately”.

“Why ‘unfortunately’”?».

“The form of the Animagus represents yourself, we can say that it’s your totem, while the Patronus represents what you need. It’s sad to think that what you need may be something outside of yourself, isn't it?”.

Kilian didn’t reply.

His favourite lessons were about Defence against Dark Arts. He and Miranda had been arguing heatedly for hours about vampires and zombies and the difference between hex and jinx. Furthermore, he had discovered that he could summon a corporeal Patronus.

Miranda had brought home a boggart because she wanted him to practice with the Riddikulus, but the boggart had turned into a Dementor and Kilian, instinctively, had used the Expecto Patronus. His Patronus was a stag.

On his fourteenth birthday, Kilian knew various things about himself. He loved treacle sweets, was a good cook, knew by heart all the seven hundred ways of commiting a Quidditch foul, and was a Defense Against Dementors expert. Maybe, it wasn't much, but it was something.

***

It was a cold February morning and Dorea was sipping a glass of water at the Golden Ladle in Diagon Alley when Charlus entered out of breath, wearing wrinkled clothes and looking tired.

“Sorry for the delay” he said before kissing her, then sat down.

“No problem” she answered.

“I see that my father is later than me” commented Charlus.

Dorea laughed. “Actually, your father arrived on time, but left after five minutes”.

Mr. Potter's behavior shouldn't have surprised Charlus, he knew the parent well, but anyway he raised his eyebrows and said: “It was he who invited us to lunch”.

“An urgent owl from the Ministry has arrived” explained Dorea.

“Anyway, he said he pays”.

“Oh, well, then his behavior is totally acceptable”.

Dorea smiled and they both remained silent for a couple of minutes to consult the menu.

Charlus ordered: “Roast chicken, carrots, Yorkshire pudding and pumpkin juice”. The ordered dishes appeared immediately out of nowhere.

“Mushroom Lasagna” instead asked Dorea, who had been in love with Italian cuisine since at the age of eight, she had visited Rome, for the first time, with her great grandmother, her sister and brothers.

For a while they talked about the working morning of both of them (Charlus had worked in the poisoning ward, Dorea had been to a castle in the south of the country that was to be exorcised), but then the Apprentice Healer introduced the topic they really wished to discuss.

“So, from one day to the next, Kilian was admitted to Hogwarts and got the Trace. How do you explain it to you?”.

“I don't explain it” answered Dorea. “We’ve been here before, do you remember it? Mysterious story, mysterious boy”.

“You love mysteries” observed Charlus.

“Yes” agreed Dorea. “In fact, given that Kilian is no longer a patient of the San Mungo, given that more than a month has passed since his hospitalization and given that he has recovered completely ...”

“You want to guide him on an astral travel” concluded Charlus.

Dorea nodded.

“Ok, I don't want to ask you, but you know that in our relationship, I have to be the reasonable one”.

Dorea gave him a mocking smile.

Charlus took on a more serious expression. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “The outcomes of astral travel with an amnesic boy are also of interest to me and, indeed, it might actually help him remember something, but you know how upsetting your sessions can be, even under normal conditions”.

“I’m sure” said Dorea. “I’ll be careful”.

For Charlus, it was enough. Meanwhile, they had finished lunch.

“Shall we go?”.

They left the bill to Mr. Potter, went out the restaurant and Disapparated to reappear on the opposite side of Diagon Alley, in front of Miranda's apartment.

After the N.E.W.T.s, Dorea wanted to continue studying and there was a particular branch of magic that she wished to deepen: the magic of the soul, the Shamanism. So, she had searched someone who was well versed in this field and who was willing to hire her as an apprentice.

Miranda hadn't been her first choice, in fact she hadn't exactly been a choice. The future teacher of Charms, theoretically, was not a scholar of Shamanism, but in practice, her eidetic memory and her intelligence made her a walking and talking library on this topic (and also on many other topics). It was Professor Slughorn who introduced them and recommended them to each other (both, in fact, had been members of the Slugh Club). Miranda's resume was atypical for a scholar. She had been an Auror, but after a couple of years she had left the Ministry and had started working as a bounty hunter who in her spare time did research and wrote articles for Challenges in Charming. Being her apprentice would have involved hunting down Grindelwald's followers and proofreading articles. It wasn't what the former Prefect of Slytherin was looking for, but Cygnus Black Sr. was horrified, when he found out that his youngest daughter could become a bounty hunter's apprentice, so Dorea had to accept.

She had not regretted it. Miranda was strict, but she had taught her a lot and almost died to protect her. Dorea's hands began to tremble slightly, remembering what had happened eight months ago and Charlus, realizing it, squeezed them and smiled sweetly. Dorea managed to reciprocate.

During a fight against three of Grindelwald's followers, the young exorcist was about to be struck by an unknown curse. Miranda had acted like a human shield and the spell had hit her full, severing her right arm. Now she had a magical one, silver, which she hid by wearing long black gloves. Dorea would be in her debt for the rest of her life.

The two betrothed went up the stairs, holding hands, and knocked on the oak door which opened immediately. Miranda was alone and scribbled something on a roll of parchment. They said goodbye and after the customary pleasantries that consisted of Miranda inquiring about the health of Charlus's brother and sister-in-law (Miranda and Flea were at Hogwarts in the same year), Dorea sat on the bed and asked: “Where is the mystery boy?”.

“He went to the apothecary's, I needed a few things” said Miranda.

“No one can laze with you, right?” commented Charlus amused.

“He offered himself” replied Miranda. “In fact, it's a bit like having a house-elf”. She indicated the interior of the bedsit with his hand and Dorea noticed that it was neater than usual. Sure, the difference was minimal, but at least the sink no longer overflowed with dirty dishes (Miranda was a powerful and brilliant witch, but she couldn't use household spells).

“Do you get along, then?” inquired Charlus as with his wand, he lifted some clothes from a chair to be able to sit down. “When Dorea told me that Dumbledore had entrusted him to you, I feared the worst” he said with all possible innocence.

Miranda was not offended by the insinuation and began to count with her fingers: “He doesn't disturb, cleans, cooks and runs errands for me, without I have to ask him. Dumbledore remains a despotic madman, but I must admit that of all the lost 14-year-olds of this world, He may have pinned me with the least worst”.

“I am pleased that your opinion on adolescents is improving, as you will soon be a teacher” commented Charlus.

“He knows how to evoke a corporeal Patronus” announced Miranda, ignoring him.

"How did you find out?" asked Dorea in amazement.

“I wanted to see how he got along with the Riddikulus charm, but the Boggart turned into a Dementor and he instinctively used the Patronus Charm. He summoned a beautiful silver stag”.

“Therefore, he not only evoked a corporeal Patronus, he did so in the face of the imitation of a Dementor, even more impressive” whispered Dorea. “Do you think he could do it in front of a real Dementor?”.

"I don't think it's that important to find out" Charlus hastened to say.

His girlfriend gave him a dirty look. “Mine was just intellectual speculation. I wasn't proposing to take him on a trip to Azkaban”.

"I told it to Dumbledore" added Miranda.

“And…?”.

“And nothing, Dumbledore didn't answer me, but it's no use: I can draw conclusions on my own. The fact that he knows how to evoke a body Patronus is resolutive: someone has trained him. Someone trained him very well, then pulled him out from under a boulder and sent him to your father, Charlus”.

Charlus was about to answer, but they heard someone coming up the stairs and all three immediately fell silent.

A few seconds later, Kilian entered. He seemed surprised to see them. «Hi Charlus, hi Dorea».

Charlus smiled at him and helped him arrange the jars full of unicorn hair and salamander eyes in the pantry.

"Didn't Miranda tell you we'd come to see you?".

Kilian shook his head. "I didn't even know you knew each other," he said as he made tea for everyone.

Charlus gave Miranda a disapproving look.

"Among the subjects of Hogwarts there is no _History of Miranda_ " she replied.

"Last year I was her apprentice" explained Dorea. "I accompanied her as she traveled the continent hunting Hecates Kinder".

"She was hunting who?" asked Kilian.

"To the Hecates Kinder, the Hecate’s Children, the followers of Grindelwald".

“Who is Grindelwald?”.

Miranda, Dorea and Charlus remained silent for quite a while while Kilian stared at them embarrassed. Sometimes, what Kilian did not remember, could still blow you away.

"He's just the most powerful dark wizard of all time, with whom half of Europe is at war" answered Miranda finally.

Kilian assumed a brooding expression as he poured the tea. Then he sat down and said: "That name reminds me of something… Grindelwald… Wasn't he… defeated?".

"Unfortunately not" said Charlus. Kilian had the face contracted and put his hands to his temples. Charlus smiled at him: «Don't worry, we can explain to you. Grindelwald is ... "

"A dark wizard," interrupted Miranda. "A very powerful dark wizard, expert in the art of necromancy. Fight for the elimination of all restrictions on dark magic, for the abolition of the International Statute of Secrecy and for the legalization of Muggle hunting. " He took a sip of tea. "It's ravaging continental Europe for a long time, but our Ministry declared war on him only two years ago”.

"So we're at war" said Kilian. "It doesn’t seem".

"Have you seen many wars in your life?" Miranda asked him.

"Everyone in Diagon Alley seems quiet" he replied simply. "And shouldn't the St Mungo's be full of wounded people?".

"Grindelwald rarely attacks our Country" Charlus explained to him. "Sadly, in continental Europe, the situation is very different. In Germany, France, Italy and Poland there are entire territories in the hands of the Hecates Kinder and continuous battles on the borders. But we are lucky, we have Dumbledore”.

Both Dorea and Miranda gave him an irritated look.

"You know it too that Grindelwald is keeping away from Great Britain because of him: he fears Dumbledore, Dumbledore is the only one he fears" continued Charlus calmly.

"Stop talking about war" decided Dorea. She turned to the lost boy, smiled, and asked him: "Kilian, actually, today we came because I have a proposal for you: did I already tell you what work I do?".

Kilian shook his head.

"Well, in short, I'm an exorcist. I mostly deal with purifying magical places of haunted ghosts and poltergeists, but I want to specialize in the study of possession, do you know anything about that?”.

"Is it powerful dark magic? Are certain dark wizards able to take control of your body and can they feed on you until you die?”.

"Exactly" replied Dorea with a happy air that, she knew, was out of tune with the topic of conversation. "To free someone from a possession, without hurting it" she added "one must be an expert in soul magic, in Shamanism, which is exactly what I am studying".

“These preambles aren't needed” intervened Miranda. "Dorea just wants to know if you'd like to astral travel with her",

Kilian blanched. "I'm not possessed" he said quickly.

“Of course, you’re not” Dorea reassured him. “But an astral travel is a travel into ourselves. I'm not saying it could help you recover your memory, but we can certainly get some information about you”.

"I don't understand" said Kilian. "How does it work?".

"Your mind may have lost its way to your memories," said Miranda «but your soul, no. It know who you are, it'll always know. With an astral travel, you'll hardly recover your memory, but you can rediscover what makes you yourself. For example, I... " the witch suddenly stopped.

Sensing that Miranda had no intention of revealing anything personal about herself, Dorea continued: “For example, one of the things that made me who I am is my brother Marius. If I were to lose my memory and somone were to accompany me on an astral travel, I could hardly remember his name, or his story, but I would probably feel I have a brother because Marius is one of my roots”.

Kilian's eyes lit up. "Yes, I want to do it," he said. "Immediately?".

Dorea smiled. "No, I'll need a couple of weeks, I have to prepare a potion, besides we are now on a waning moon, while astral travel is best done with a full moon or with a waxing moon".

"How do you become an exorcist?" asked Kilian excitedly.

"Oh, it's a nice story" replied Charlus. "You see, when we were in our freshman year at Hogwarts, Peeves, the resident poltergeist of Hogwarts, targeted her with some Dungbomb: she got mad and swore revenge against all the evil sprites in the world".

His fiancée kicked him. "If you're interested," she said to Kilian "I will tell you more about it, anyway I myself am only at the beginning and in reality Shamanism interests me more than exorcism".

"Kilian," Miranda intervened, glancing at the clock. "At what point are you with _The Book of Spells_?".

Kilian blushed. "Second chapter".

Miranda frowned. “And at what point did you have to be?”.

Kilian was about to answer, but Dorea anticipated him: «Is he studying on _The Book of Spells_? Miranda, seriously? He's fourteen years old".

Miranda crossed her arms and looked at her with sufficiency. "I started studying it at twelve" she replied.

Dorea could barely keep herself from snorting. _The Book of Spells_ was written by Miranda Goshawk I, a great-aunt of Miranda who lived at the beginning of the last century. Dorea considered it a fundamental reading for those wished to specialize in Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts, but also thought it was a very complex and verbose text.

"In fact, I have decided it will be my textbook" continued Miranda.

"In the name of Merlin! Please tell me you're kidding. It's too hard to digest. You can't assign it to some kids».

"Well, not to freshmen, perhaps, but I thought third-year students ..."

«Kilian has to start the fourth year» emphasized Dorea. «Kilian, how do you find the book?».

Kilian looked like someone who would have preferred not to be involved.

“Don't worry, be honest. Miranda barks, but she doesn't bite" Dorea reassured him as Miranda looked at her in annoyance.

"It's hard" ruled Kilian, in the end.

Dorea gave Miranda a victorious look, Miranda rolled her eyes, Charlus smiled.

"Okay," Miranda gave up. "It's not for third and fourth year students, but N.E.W.T.s students ..."

"Miranda, forget it" snapped Dorea. “Not only is it a very complex book, it also has too large a part devoted to dark magic and blood rituals. Dippet will never accept".

"In fact," Charlus interjected "I believe that, at the moment, _The Book of Spells_ is in the Restricted Section".

This effectively ended the matter. Dorea and Charlus exchanged a quick glance. Both were asking themselves many questions about the kind of teacher Miranda would be. They just couldn't picture her in that role. Dorea had always considered her to be an extremely gifted person who, due to her talent, had difficulty in relating to those who were average. She had been a good teacher to Dorea, but Dorea was not an eleven-year-old girl when she had become her apprentice.

"Okay, you've won," said Miranda. “Now, though, it would be better if you left. Kilian must finish some readings”.

Dorea and Charlus were about to leave when Miranda added: "What are your plans for next Saturday?".

"None" answered Dorea.

“Well, I wanted to take Kilian to the Scamanders: he has some gaps in Magizoology that need to be remedied. And if I'm not mistaken, you were eager to see that cross between a Caipora and a Hinkypunk they found on their last trip to Brazil".

"Oh yes, we gladly accept" replied Dorea enthusiastically.

So it was that the following Saturday, the quartet went to Dorset, where Tina and Newt Scamander lived with their seven-year-old son, Ulysses, in what was, in fact, an animal reserve. A high wrought iron gate stood out in front of them, beyond which they could glimpse what appeared to be groups of dens, nests and stables, belonging to different creatures.

Miranda rang the bell and, after a few moments, the gate opened. They entered and walked down a winding driveway littered with weeds and trails of giant snails. Occasionally, a hippogriff or spotted malaclaw cut their way. It was amazing how strong the smell of the animals was, considering they were outdoors. After walking for half an hour they came to a stone cottage, in front of which a wizard and a witch in his forties and a child who looked a lot like both were waiting for them. The famous magizoologist Newt Scamander had curly brown hair and hazel eyes, his wife Tina was tall, thin with dark hair and eyes. The son had blond curls and his mother's dark eyes.

They introduced themselves and made them sit in the house, then, while Kilian, somewhere in the park, was following his first unofficial Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Mrs. Scamander and after having entrusted little Ulysses to the care of his nanny (a Squib who was called Arabella), Newt Scamander showed Dorea the cross between the Hinkypunk and the Caipora.

They discussed it for an hour, before returning house to reunite with Charlus and Miranda. Scamander made tea for everyone.

Before long, Miranda began complaining about Dumbledore.

“What I don't understand” she snorted “is why he entrusted Kilian to me. There was no shortage of alternatives: Doje, the Belbys, Mrs Bagshot, the Wafflings, you. You would have been perfect: you are good with kids and Tina _is_ a pre-Hogwarts tutor”.

"Usually, trying to figure out what's going on in Dumbledore's head only causes big headaches," said Charlus, but Miranda kept her gaze on Scamander and must have noticed something on his face, because she asked him: "What do you know?".

"Nothing" replied Scamander quickly as he set the cup down on the table with excessive impetuosity.

"Don't lie to me" hissed the witch.

"I'm not lying to you" he proclaimed. "I don't know anything. He didn't tell me anything. You know, I don't spend my days plotting behind your back with Albus”.

"Maybe he didn't tell you anything" agreed Miranda "but you know him well and you suspect something, don't you?".

"I wouldn't say I know him well," replied Scamander.

"I know you wouldn't say it, I did said it, in fact. Then?".

Scamander frowned and then slowly said: “While it may not seem like it, Albus never does anything against anyone, only for something. You know this, don't you?”.

"And what difference does it make?!" snapped Miranda. “I'm sick of having to continually prove to him that I'm a good person. I've spent the past eight years chasing Hecates Kinder, how many more times will I have to risk being killed to get his trust?”.

"I think that, this time, the problem not be your intentions".

"What do you mean?" asked Dorea.

Scamander didn't answer, but Miranda seemed to understand. "Does he doubt the kid?" She said. “Does he think Kilian's a Grindelwald spy or something? Seriously?".

"Kilian seems like a nice guy to me," asserted Scamander "but I understand why Albus has doubts: there are too many inexplicable things in his story."

Miranda nodded. “Yes, but why…” The witch hesitated for a moment, but then her face twisted into an almost cruel grimace and said: “Oh, sure. He thinks you are too good to give a hard time to a kid, while instead, he doesn't doubt that I would curse Kilian at the first suspicion”.

Scamander didn't confirm, but his silence was quite telling.

Dorea's blood was boiling. The harshness with which Dumbledore treated Miranda had always left her surprised and irritated, but above all she was surprised and irritated by the fact that Miranda, one of the people she admired most in the world, was so much subjected to that man. It had taken some time for her to understand the dynamics of their relationship. When Miranda was in her fifth year, Dumbledore had surprised her as she attempted to perform a dark ritual that involved the sacrifice of a cat and which was supposed to increase her resistance to physical injury. Dumbledore had not reported her but since then Miranda had been constantly monitored and tested. The Charms Master, for her part, even though she claimed to be irritated by her old teacher's behavior, in fact admired Albus Dumbledore beyond all measure and desperately wanted to get his approval.

At that moment, Kilian and Tina Scamander entered the room.

"What grim expressions, what were you talking about?" asked Mrs. Scamander smiling as she added two chairs to the table.

Dorea, Charlus and Miranda hesitated, but Mr. Scamander answered frankly: "About Albus."

"Which can mean a lot of things" she said.

"We were discussing how he decided to entrust Kilian to Miranda, without even asking her".

Mrs. Scamander seemed to find it amusing. "Do you remember when he revealed to you that there was a Thunderbird kidnapped in Equatorial Guinea because he wanted you to go to New York?".

Dorea didn't understand why the finding of a Thunderbird in Guinea should have led to a trip to New York, but Mr. Scamander smiled sweetly at his wife.

"Does he often do things like this, then?" intervened Kilian.

“Yep” answered Mr. Scamander and with that one syllable he managed to show all his exasperation, there was also affection, however.

"And how can you bear it?".

The magizoologist laughed and after reflecting for a while, said: "Every time you try to rebel, every time you try not to do what he wants you to do, things take a turn for the worst. In the end, you convince yourself that he must be omniscient and and you learn to trust him blindly".

The boy didn't seem convinced and Dorea couldn't blame him.

"When you'll be at Hogwarts, you will learn to know him" added Mr. Scamander.

"Are you trying to convince him to enroll in another school?" asked Miranda.

Kilian laughed, but it didn't seem like he could really consider not going to Hogwarts, as soon as the name of the school was spoken, his eyes began to glow and his cheeks reddened. "What House were you in?" churches.

“Hufflepuff” answered Mr. Scamander. “ _If you knocked, you will be welcomed_ ”.

“Ravenclaw” said Miranda. “ _Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure_ ”.

"Slytherin. _This is chaos, This is magic_ " recited Dorea. "Like my whole family”.

"All of them?" inquired Kilian.

"Well, I have three cousins who went to Durmastrang because their father, my uncle Arcturus, teaches there, but yes, usually, the Black's school is Hogwarts and the Black's House is Slytherin".

"What is Durmstrang?".

"After Hogwarts, it's the best school of magic in Europe" answered Miranda. "It's located somewhere in northeastern Europe and is infamous for being the institute where Grindelwald studied".

Kilian nodded and asked: "So relatives usually go in the same house?"

Mr. Scamander replied: “Sometimes. Makes sense, doesn't it? Basically, it's the family that transmits values to you, however it’s not a rule: my brother was in Gryffindor»

"I was sorted in Ravenclaw while my parents and my brother were Gryffindors" added Charlus.

Kilian looked thoughtful and Dorea smiled at him: "You shouldn't worry. The Hat is never wrong. Even if it's sometimes difficult to understand the reason for a choice, even if sometimes others will never see that side of you, the Hat sorts you in the House to which you belong. And the House tells you where you come from and where you want to go, it tells you who you are”.

They were the same words she had said to Alphard three years earlier: she firmly believed in them.

The weeks that followed were quite busy for Dorea. She worked a lot and she also had to prepare the complex potion necessary for the completion of a astral travel.

During the last winter full moon, however, Kilian went to the apartment Dorea shared with Charlus in Kensington. They were in her study, where the exorcist had drawn a circle on the ground surrounded by runes. Dorea handed Kilian a vial of the potion she had prepared and the latter drank it.

"You're nervous?" Dorea asked him as they sat inside the circle.

"A little" replied Kilian. "What should I expect?".

"It's hard to make predictions" she explained. "Each astral travel is different from another, it depends on the person, but usually, you arrive in a kind of dream world, but in which everything is linked to your essence and you will remember every detail".

"Okay," agreed the young wizard.

Dorea smiled and held out her hands in his direction, Kilian grabbed them and it all began.

Later, Dorea would have a hard time explaining what happened also to herself. At first it seemed that everything was fine, they were in a Muggle house that was catching fire: the flames were golden and, although hot, they didn't burn.

Then, suddenly, the whole scenario was engulfed by darkness and Dorea found herself caught in the coils of a black snake with red eyes. Pain, so much pain, it seemed that every part of her body, in contact with the snake, had caught fire. Dorea screamed, Kilian approached her and tried to free her, the snake tried to bite her on the jugular... Dorea's eyes rolled over and she felt dragged down. She thought she was dying, but miraculously opened her eyes again. Now, she was in a bare room with Kilian sitting on the bed. The black snake was coiled around his torso and its head rested serenely on his shoulder. It seemed to be purring. They looked at each other, both bewildered, when the door opened and the last person Dorea would have expected to see at that moment entered: it was Tom Riddle. He wore disused Muggle clothes and seemed even more confused than them, but when his eyes met Kilian's, they both froze. They looked enchanted, unable to move or look away.

Dorea was in her senior year when Riddle entered Hogwarts.

At first, she felt sorry for him. Riddle was extremely bright, a boderline genius probably, he was also extremely talented and very charming. However, he was also a kid who grew up in a Muggle orphanage with second-hand clothes. Probably no Muggle-born in Slytherin had ever had an easy life, but Walburga and Abraxas Malfoy had made sure Tom's was particularly difficult. Initially, she had tried to help him, but he had made it clear immediately that he did not want anyone's protection and pity. The former Prefect of Slytherin, therefore, could only stand by and watch as the orphan fought alone against virtually everything else of their House. The war between Riddle, Walburga and Malfoy was far from over when she graduated, but Alphard had told her that even though none of the three had managed to prevail over the other, Riddle's situation had improved: he had earned the respect of his comrades and had a group of loyals that included the Rosier heir, the Nott heir, the Avery heir, a Selwyn and a Greengrass.

Kilian and Riddle continued to stare at each other, dreamily, perhaps fearing that a gesture or a word could break the enchant, but soon the space around them changed again until all three found themselves in a nursery. The walls portrayed a forest in which two deer, a dog, a wolf and a mouse were running, while in the center of the room there was a cot that housed a beautiful child with black hair. He wore blue pajamas, was standing and clutching on to the bars of the cot. It didn't seem that the three strangers who appeared out of nowhere in his room, they had scared him on the contrary, he was smiling and looking at them with bright interest. Only then, Dorea noticed the shape and color of the child's eyes.

‘It’s Kilian!’ she tought.

As soon as she had had that realization, something exploded, the house was destroyed, but the child protected himself with magic and in the rubble of the house, unharmed, but trapped and desperate, he cried out loud.

Dorea and Kilian found themselves back in the apartment in Kensington, still with the echo of that cry in their ears.

Dorea immediately released Kilian's hands. He got up out of breath, walked over to his desk and took a bar of chocolate from one of the drawers. She took a bite out of it and immediately felt calmer.

«I…» began Kilian «… What happened? How did it go? What was that snake? Who…?"

Dorea tore off a piece of chocolate and passed it to her. "Eat" she said.

Kilian obeyed, but he didn't seem to calm down. "What…?".

"I don't know," gasped Dorea finally. "It was atypical. Especially the fact that the snake attacked me. It was your travel, not mine. Usually, I'm a spectator or a guide, nothing had ever happened to me”.

Kilian was torturing his lower lip and kept ruffling his hair. "But…" he began in a very tense tone. «… Was that me? I mean the snake. Is that why he calmed down immediately when I managed to separate him from you? You said that…"

"No, no, no" asserted Dorea firmly. "I don't know what happened, but that snake wasn't you".

"How can you tell? We were traveling in my soul”.

Dorea sat down in an armchair and invited Kilian to do the same.

"I owe you my apologies" she said. "I had to make sure this didn't happen."

"This, what?".

"At first, that Muggle house, the flames: that was in you, but immediately after and as if we were lost inside someone else" Dorea took another bite of chocolate. "I don't know how it was possible, but a foreign presence seems to have intervened". She hesitated. Maybe it was her pride that spoke (she really struggled to accept the possibility of having made such a gross mistake), but she was beginning to have doubts about what had happened, so she added: "Or perhaps, the entity that interfered is someone with whom you have a very deep bond, so deep that the boundary on where you end and where he begins becomes blurred". Said aloud, it seemed crazy, not even between parents and children or between husband and wife could such a bond be created.

Kilian, however, from the height of his ignorance on Shamanism the bonds of the soul, believed it. "Someone with whom I have a very deep connection" he repeated. "You mean that boy, right?".

"Well, yes, if my guess is correct". She ran a hand through her hair, for some reason she felt that a meeting between Kilian and Riddle would not lead to anything good, but then concluded that Kilian would find out who the other boy was anyway, since in a few months, he would be going to Hogwarts, so she said: "That boy's name is Tom Riddle." Kilian stared at her in amazement and Dorea continued: "He's a student of Slytherin and he's in the same year as Alphard”.

Kilian's eyes were wide open and his face was flushed with excitementwas: "Do you think he knows me?" he said, jumping to his feet.

“Maybe”.

"Perhaps, we're related" exclaimed Kilian.

Dorea thought that, yes, in fact, they were a little alike, but instead she said: "He grew up in an orphanage".

“Which orphanage?”.

"I have no idea" replied Dorea. "But if you want I can ask him".

“Really?”.

"Sure. He's at Hogwarts now. I can send him an owl with a picture of you and ask him if he knows you”.

Kilian's eyes were brighter than ever and his smile seemed to emanate light. "Thanks" he said.

Dorea, who perhaps had lost control of the boy's astral travel, risking to seriously harm him, felt that she didn't deserve his gratitude, but in any case she returned his smile and replied: "No worries".

Riddle replied promptly: he said he didn't know Kilian, but that since he knew almost nothing about his family, he didn't rule out that they could be related and that he hoped that during the summer holidays, they could have gone to a genealogist to clarify the matter.

In any case, Dorea thought, it was evident that she couldn't use what had happened for a paper because it was highly probable that she had simply not been able to control the travel. She had just wasted time.

"When you learn something new, no time has been wasted" Charlus replied smiling when she told him the story.

Dorea threw a book by Bathilda Bagshot at him, but in fact, she had learned a lesson and promised herself to study a lot more before trying again to astral travel with anyone.

The month of March passed like that, between study and work, but in April, Dorea and Charlus went to Grimmauld Place to celebrate the birthday of her great-grandmother also known as the Grandmother. Sybill Black and her twin sister Cassandra Trelawney turned one hundred and twenty.

The Grimmauld Place banquet hall was hot, crowded, and bathed in green light. In the center of the room, there were two small thrones with a pile of gifts for the two celebrated, then there were tables filled with food and wine and, in a corner, some wood nymphs sang unknown melodies. Dorea and Charlus were chatting with cousins Charis and Caspar Crouch, whose first son was supposed to be born by the end of the month, when Alphard, her handsome boy, entered the room and after catching Dorea's gaze, moving his hands, he asked her to join him. Dorea apologized and moved away from Charlus and the future parents.

"Did you guide Kilian on an astral travel?" he asked immediately.

Alphard had returned home earlier in the week for the Easter holidays and, of course, had immediately gone to see his new best friend. In those months, they had written to each other, but evidently Kilian had preferred to tell him about their astral adventure in person.

"Why? What were you thinking!?".

Dorea stared at him in amazement: Alphard had never addressed her in that way. "Watch your mouth, kiddo" she hissed.

Alphard sighed loudly, but when he spoke again his tone was quieter. "It's just that ... I know how much you care about your job, but I didn't think you'd ever risk hurting Kilian to get the material for a peer-riviewed research".

"I didn't do it for that" replied Dorea.

Alphard didn't reply, but his gaze was very expressive.

"I didn't do it _just_ for that" repeated Dorea. "It could have helped him too, it could help him recover his memory".

Alphard shook his head hard. “It wasn't worth the risk. Heck, he could get lost inside himself and never find his way back to the real world”.

"Your confidence in my abilities is touching" said Dorea coldly. "Anyway, I had talked to Miranda about it: we both thought the dangers were minimal".

"Ah, okay, if you and Miranda had discussed it before, you don't need to talk about it anymore" said Alphard mockingly.

"Actually no, it doesn't need, since I know better than you how to do my job and that, at the moment, the boy is entrusted to Miranda".

«You say 'your job', but this isn't really your job. You are an exorcist, this is a Psycho Healing field and even though I know you know Legilimency well, if not even a witch with the training of Rita Schneider has managed ... "

"It's not Legilimency, Legilimency is about the mind, I take care of the spirit, of the soul: it's Shamanism".

Luckily for him, Alphard didn't roll his eyes, but his answer still irritated Dorea a lot: “Aunt, it's semantics. Talking about souls and talking about minds ... "

"It's not semantics," replied Dorea, trying not to raise her voice. "You think so because you don't know my field of study as well as I do and since you know so little about Shamanism why do you suppose you can explain to me what I'm capable to do of and what not?".

The two Blacks were silent for a while, both frowning, then Dorea sighed: "Alphard, nothing happened. I was careful”.

“Kilian said a snake almost bit you. It doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me. It could have happened to him, right?”.

Dorea was flabbergasted. “Well, thank you, nephew. Yes, a snake almost bit me and the only thing that worries you is that could happen to someone you've known for just three months?".

Alphard's expression didn't change. "You were aware of the risks you were taking, he wasn't".

Dorea shook her head, exasperated.

"What happens?" asked Charlus who had managed to get away from Mr and Mrs Crouch and had joined them.

“Nothing, Alphard was explaining to me how little he cares about my safety. A snake was about to bite me on the jugular, but the problem is that it could have happened to Kilian”.

Charlus turned to Alphard: "Believe me, she regrets having done it even if she doesn't want to admit it".

“I don’t…”

"And in any case, instead of railing against your aunt, did you try to explain to Kilian who took a great risk?".

Alphard didn't answer and looked away.

"I imagined. He doesn't matter, does he?”.

"He doesn't care enough for his safety" replied Alphard.

Charlus smiled: “Yes, I grew up with Gryffindors, I recognized the type, but” he added “I guess he's happy that it was useful. They actually found something”.

Alphard nodded. "He was happy. He told me about Riddle and the possibility that he might be his lost brother”.

"Well, he's definitely not her lost brother," said Charlus. "Riddle was born on December 31, 1926, Kilian only ten weeks later".

"How do you know Riddle's date of birth?" asked Dorea in amazement.

“It was on his file. After you told me how the travel went, I checked".

"Which file?" required Alphard.

"The Head Boy and Girl are given the personal data sheets of the students" explained Charlus.

"Why did you keep them?" inquired Dorea.

"Have you ever seen me throw away something?" replied Charlus pouring wine into a goblet.

"Quite right" agreed Dorea, then turned back to her nephew: “In any case, Tom was born in a Muggle orphanage. Kilian, on the other hand, probably comes from a magical family. Before the trip was over, we ended up in a nursery with magically painted walls. There was a Kilian of about a year in a cot".

Alphard nodded. «Yes, Kilian also told me that part, but in reality nobody knows anything about Riddle's family and he's so gifted… I wouldn't be surprised if one day, it turns out that he's actually the illegitimate son of a Pureblood».

"Don't let your sister hear you" Dorea warned him.

The two exchanged an amused look, then Alphard, looking around, added: "Is it strange that he hasn't arrived yet?".

"No, Miranda is a chronic laggard".

At that moment, the main doors of the room swung open and the two celebrated ones entered: Grandmother and great-aunt Cassandra. They were almost indistinguishable, petite, with dark eyes, snow-white hair and golden diadems on their heads. They paraded to the center of the room and then sat on the two thrones. Everyone applauded and began to crowd around them to offer their wishes.

Dorea was able to talk to her Grandmother and her great-aunt only after an hour. The other guests chatted or danced, Alphard had disappeared, and she had taken the opportunity to approach the thrones with Charlus and her cousins, Arcturus and Melania.

"Where is Kilian Magbob, Dorea?" asked Aunt Cassandra. She was a powerful Seer and had decided to invite Kilian and Miranda to hers birthday because she hoped to have a Vision on him.

"He and Miranda are late," replied Dorea "but I assure you they will come".

Aunt Cassandra nodded.

"I'm glad _you_ came" interjected Arcturus. “Have you already apologized with Uncle Cygnus?”.

Charlus gave her an alarmed look. He knew very well that she had returned to Grimmauld Place, only for the love of Grandmother Sybill, certainly not because she wanted to make peace with her father. However, there was no need for him to worry. Even though it often didn't seem like it, Dorea knew how to behave with her family and that was her Grandmother's day: she wouldn't have upset her. "I'll take care of it" she said in a neutral tone.

Arcturus nodded, satisfied.

Five years earlier, Dorea had discovered that her father had lied to her for a good part of her life. His brother Marius was a Magonò. By the time the Hogwarts letter didn't arrive (confirming what the family had long suspected), Marius had disappeared and Cygnus Black sr had told the youngest of his daughters (who was nine at the time) that her brother had asked to being able to attend a Muggle boarding school and that he had preferred to leave without saying goodbye. Dorea had written to him many times, without ever receiving an answer and, in the end, she was convinced that Marius no longer loved her.

Only at seventeen, had he discovered the truth.

Cygnus Black Sr. had intercepted her letters, Marius had been abandoned in an orphanage in the north of the country and had committed suicide at thirteen. And, probably, her mother had died consumed with guilt.

No, Dorea had no intention of apologizing to her father, but that day she would behave civilly, so she directed the conversation about the member of the family that the others detested too.

"Grandmother, what did Irma give you?" she churches.

Her Grandmother pursed her lips in a grimace. "A watch that, judging by its appearance, will have bought up in some second-hand shop".

Everyone laughed.

"Young Cygnus told me that he had put Alphard in detention at Christmas, but that you gave him permission to go out as if nothing had happened" interjected Arcturus.

"That one," said Grandmother, and her tone expressed all possible contempt "she needs to be reminded where she belongs".

Dorea hated Irma because Irma was terrible, her family hated Irma basically out of snobbery. They didn't believe she was worthy of being a Black's wife. Irma's grandmother was a Half-Blood who had married a Pucey, her mother was a Pucey who had married a Crabbe, and she, by getting pregnant by a fifteen-year-old boy, had managed to marry a Black.

“You shouldn't remind her, you shouldn't live under her same roof, if you hadn't forced Pollux to marry her” said Dorea.

Grandmother glared at her. "There was no alternative" she said dryly. “They were expecting a child. When you are expecting a child, you get married”.

Dorea would have liked to point out that no one would have forced Pollux to marry a Muggle or Muggle-born, but she was too used to respecting her Grandmother to do so. However, something of his dissent must have been clearly legible on his face, because Arcturus's wife, Melania, in her usual quiet tone, reminded her: "If they hadn't married, Walburga would have been illegitimate".

This was too much. Dorea couldn't resist and burst out laughing. When Melania gave her a confused look, Dorea laughed even more loudly, attracting a few glances. Yes, Walburga, the arrogant, obtuse and overbearing Walburga, who used their family name to bully others, would have been illegitimate had her brother not been forced to marry that harpy Irma. And Melania thought Dorea would be sorry.

"What a pure soul you are" Grandmother said to Melania. "You are a Black for almost twenty years and still haven't understood how ruthless we know to be with each other? As for you," she added coldly to Dorea " I know well that you despise your niece, but I imagine you realize that if we had not forced Pollux to marry Irma, your beloved Alphard would not have even been born".

Dorea's laughter died almost instantly: she had not and would never have questioned Alphard.

At that moment, finally, Kilian and Miranda arrived. Miranda gave the twins two gifts, which in all likelihood contained knick-knacks from some second-hand shop. The two witches, imagining it, chose not to open the packages.

Cassandra's gaze was fixed on Kilian, but Kilian was looking for someone in the crowd, almost certainly Alphard who, now that his bestie had arrived, had reappeared to greet him.

Many were watching them, everyone had heard of the amnesic boy who had appeared out of nowhere at the Potter house, and Kilian looked uncomfortable. Aunt Cassandra, on the other hand, as usual, was lost in her world and unaware of the others.

"I wanted to meet you because I was hoping I could help you find out who you are with a premonition, honey".

Kilian nodded and smiled. "Thank you".

"Would you show me the palms of your hands?".

Kilian obeyed and Cassandra examined first his left hand and then his right hand.

"Do you know when you were born?" she asked him.

"Fourteenth of February".

"Mmh ... No, you can't have been born in February: there is too much fire in you".

After thirty seconds, she reopened them and put her gloves back on with a sad expression. "I'm sorry," she said. "I haven't seen anything".

Kilian looked disappointed, but thanked her for the attempt and walked away with Alphard.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Grandmother, with extreme nonchalance, asked: "You lied, didn't you?".

"Not exactly" said Aunt Cassandra. "Now I haven't seen anything, but yesterday I checked the crystals and they worried me a bit".

"What did you see?" asked Charlus.

"Maybe nothing. It might not mean anything. Crystals are difficult. They don't lie, but it's easy to misunderstand them”.

"Cassie, what did you see?" insisted Grandmother.

"The death" said Aunt Cassandra in a neutral tone.

Charlus and Melania looked alarmed. Dorea, on the other hand, was used to the theatrical mannerisms of her aunt Cassandra and, initially, didn't give weight to the revelation. In fact, it was only what happens the next day that didn't allow her to forget her words: on the thirteenth of April 1941, the sun didn't rise.

***

It would have been difficult to establish whether Balthazar Selwyn despised his father or mother more.

Balthazar's father belonged to a cadet branch of the Selwyn, but he was stupid and weak. His mother was the descendant of an Ivorian Pureblood family, but she was selfish and greedy. After marrying Balthazar's father, she left him to become the mistress of a Muggle-born. The suffering sapped his father of his powers and he had become the laughing stock of the British wizarding community.

When all this had happened, Balthazar was seven years old and since his father was unable to take care of him and his mother didn't wish to take care of him, he had gone to live with his aunt and his uncle, who never missed an opportunity to remind him to be the child of family shame. He didn't have a happy childhood, but then he entered Hogwarts, where he met people willing to give him a chance. Among these people, Tom was the most important.

He gave him a fleeting glance. It was the second Monday in April, and all nine of them were doing their homework in the library. Balthazar, the eldest of the group, had O.W.L.s that year. Tom was seated in the center of the table consulting _Moste Potente Potions_. Balthazar was pretty sure it was a Restricted Section text, but it didn't surprise him that Tom, despite being only in his third year, had gotten permission to borrow it: had Slughorn ever been able to say no to him? Had anyone ever been able to say no to him?

The others kept looking at Tom too. With the exception of Avery and Nott they were all good students, but they had a hard time concentrating that day. In particular, Gus Rookwood (who was able to pass a test with top marks one month and fight for passing the following month because he had been too busy reading essays on the possibility of predicting the future with eggs 'It's called ovomancy') he hadn't even opened his school books, but he was eagerly reading an astrometry textbook and it was obvious that he wanted to say something, but it was also evident that he wouldn't dare to disturb Tom while he studied.

In the end, the latter took pity on him and, without taking his eyes off the book, asked: "Have you discovered something?". His tone was nonchalant, but Balthazar was convinced he was pretending.

"No," replied Gus, but he didn't look sorry. “I have read seven newspapers from seven different countries. Apparently, no previous documented case, no possible explanation”. No, he wasn't sorry, he was excited.

"Do you think Grindelwald has to do with it?" asked Owen Mulciber, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

They pondered the matter, in silence. Even if in the past Grindelwald had shown that he was capable of anything, to interfere with the movement of the stars, it seemed too much even for him.

"If he did it, we'll find out soon," said Tom, looking up from the book. "It’s something that had never happened before, he will want everyone to know that he has achieved another record".

Everyone nodded and Xenos Avery and Alaric Rosier sought Balthazar's gaze. Their families had mixed feelings towards the German warlock. On the one hand, Grindelwald was a powerful dark wizard who was subduing half of Europe, on the other hand he wasn't a purist, on the contrary he believed that Muggle-borns and half-breeds should have the same rights as Purebloods. Balthazar, however, was more interested in Tom's opinion of Grindelwald than in his family's opinion.

“What if it's all connected? If Magbob came in too, I mean, " asked Ted Nott. His parents had no ambiguous feelings for Grindelwald.

They were very bigots and very snobbish as they were, even by the standards of powerful Pureblood sorcerers: Grindelwald might have turned out to be Merlin's heir, but nevertheless they would never, ever bow to someone who was convinced that the Muggle-born issue could be resolved by removing them from their families at the first sign of magic. His crazy uncle Fauntleroy, the kidnapper of pregnant Pureblood witches, on the other hand, was a whole other story and in fact it was rumored that he had joined the Hecates Kinder. And that didn't speak in favor of Grindelwald, actually.

"I don't see how Magbob can have anything to do with the non-rising sun," said Dorcas Meadowes, brushing a lock of blonde from her face. All the while, she had continued to perform her Arithmancy duties.

Ted shrugged. "Don't you think there are too many inexplicable events so close to each other?".

"You think there are too many because you don't study Arithmancy and you know nothing about the calculus of probabilities," replied Dorcas.

Ted snorted, but then turned to Tom and asked, “Do you and him keep swapping owls?”.

"Yes," replied Tom tonelessly. "In July we'll meet in Diagon Alley and we'll go to a genealogist".

He flaunted indifference, but Balthazar was convinced that, in fact, in his own way, he was excited. After all, he had been trying to find out about his family since his first year, and now, finally, he had found a clue. Certainly, he seemed utterly annoyed when he had found out that Magbob had been invited to Sybill Black's big 120th birthday party and that, therefore, Walburga Black and her family would have known him before him. It was as if, somehow, he already considered the amnesic boy his own. Tom had even considered returning to London for the Easter holidays, but unfortunately, just around that time, there had been cases of measles in the orphanage and therefore he was not allowed to return. Of course, Tom, in reality, as a wizard, wasn't in danger of contracting a Muggle infectious disease, but this wasn't an explanation he could provide to the orphanage matron.

Balthazar barely held back a smile. He supposed it would be fun to see Tom's reaction when the Black cousins returned from spring break with lots of stories, bogus or not, about Tom's alleged relative.

"I'm sure you'll find out something," said the chubby blonde Icarus Greengrass with an optimism Balthazar didn't understand where it came from. "There must be a connection between you, you look alike." Like all of them, she had seen the photo Dorea Black had sent Tom.

Balthazar agreed with Icarus and, at the same time, he was not. He too had noticed similarities, but wondered if it was possible that he had spotted them just because he was looking for them. More likely, Tom and Magbob had only similar characteristics: black hair, fair complexion, delicate features.

"He's fourteen, right?" continued Ted.

Gus nodded.

Xenos let out a long whistle. "In the face of late admission. Since when have students over eleven been admitted to Hogwarts?”.

"This has never happened in the history of the school," replied Balthazar.

"Never?" repeated Dorcas absently as she tried to solve an equation. "Have there ever been any transfer students?".

Alaric gave her a puzzled look. “Transfer students? Transferred from where?”.

"From other magical schools, for example," replied Dorcas, scribbling numbers on a piece of parchment. When her words were greeted by a chorus of male laughter, she blushed violently and set aside her Arithmancy issues to focus on the conversation. Dorcas hated making blunders, especially blunders due to his Muggle upbringing.

Icarus smiled softly at her. "You can't move from one magical school to another. Each school jealously guards its secrets and its students”.

Dorcas nodded. “Yes, I said a nonsense,” she admitted with a shrug, “but an eleven-year-old wizard can decide not to go to any school. In that case, if he later changes his mind, he could join Hogwarts even though he's no longer eleven, right?”.

Icarus nodded. “Yes and this has happened, even if rarely, but in this case it's a late registration. Here we are talking about the Quill of Acceptance which only now decides to write the name of a wizard in the Book of Admission".

"Do you know what the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admission are?" Xenos teased her with a grin.

"I can read," replied Dorcas in a velvety tone. _Hogwarts: a history_ talked about both the Quill and the Book. "You, instead?" she asked with the sense of superiority that a model student could afford to show off towards those who were constantly collecting below average grades.

Xenos almost growled, but didn't have time to reply because Icarus continued: "Which, in theory, means that he has only now shown sufficient powers for admission to Hogwarts."

"It must be a real slapstick, a kind of Squib," commented Ted.

Gus snorted loudly. "Ted, how stupid can you be?" he asked him, and before Ted could retort, Icarus intervened again: «I said 'in theory' ... If he were almost a Squib, he would never have been admitted» he explained. "No, if the Book decided he was worthy of Hogwarts despite his age, clearly the problem isn't a lack of talent: there are no exceptions for the almost Squibs".

"Maybe he was born abroad," speculated Owen, "and the Quill missed the fact that he was English. It could happen, right?".

“My family lived in France until two years ago, my sister was born in Paris,” Alaric reminded them, “however we were both admitted to Hogwarts anyway. Of course, we could have asked to enroll in Beauxbatons, but I think we can agree that the Schools of Magic take into account the blood, not the place of birth, for admission".

"But will it also apply to Muggle-borns?" asked Dorcas.

"Do you know I don't know?" Gus answered her and the others had equally puzzled expressions. "However, my mother has already checked whether, by chance, he was admitted to some other School of Magic and it seems not to be".

Only then did Tom speak. "With what name was he admitted?" he asked Gus.

Balthazar smiled: trust Tom to always be able to grasp the heart of the matter.

"With what name?" repeated Gus.

"He's amnesic and nobody knows who he is," summarized Tom. "So what name could there ever be on the Book of Admission? In theory, only his real name could be written there even if he doesn't know it himself”.

Gus nodded as he followed the reasoning. "Instead, inexplicably, there is written the fictitious name they gave him, Kilian Magbob," he said. "Ah, and there is also another strange thing: usually, next to the name, the Quill writes the date of birth, but in the case of Magbob, nothing".

"Interesting, therefore more than the scarcity of talent, it seems that the problem of the Quill and the Book was his existence."

"What do you think?" inquired Dorcas.

"He must have been cursed, a curse so powerful that it not only made him forget who he is, but it made anyone who knew him forget who he is, including ancient and powerful magical artifacts. It canceled his existence”.

"I've never heard of such a thing," said Gus enthusiastically. "That is, there are various spells that give similar results, but nothing that could have affection with the Quill and the Book." He smiled. "I can't wait to meet him".

Balthazar was also eager to meet Magbob. All of them were eager to meet him.


End file.
